In Havana there’s 10 pretty castles,
Their hallways are marble and bare,
Once stood 3 queens with their ladies,
Their kings put to death without care.
The people they chorused united,
Their muse heard through all of the stone.
Their children starving and dying.
No bread for their cold and wet homes.
The windows were glass of such stain,
No eyes could not gaze nor refrain.
The widows were hung on the lampposts,
Their rule ending with blood never tamed.
The people rose and revolted
Death had his sorrowful day
They wept for to find but their lover,
The monarchy nothing but paid.
Now freedom was vast in their hearts,
The monarch was dead in the dirt.
Their bodies lied naked in flames,
Ashes of dead men of a war, they all flirt.