With a Slab on her back

In Los Vadillos, from Burgos
I took a bus that was taking me
To the Juan XXIII neighborhood.
As it passed right by
The Municipal Cemetery
Due to a breakdown it stopped.
A moment we took advantage of
To visit the Cemetery.
From the two iron leaves
Of the entrance gate
We saw a woman's body
Looking like a ghost
With a slab on her back
Singing in Gregorian chant:
-Come in, you will see a day's prayer
And a month's, a year's burial
For the abundant provision
Of rare diseases and not so rare.
When we walked the corridors
We saw in the mausoleums togas
Mitres and crowns
On the monuments of braids and sashes
And in the graves with beaks and packsaddles
Of common people
That green snot so similar
To that with which sheep die.
Meanwhile, that woman’s ghost 
Was hopping from grave to grave
Very skillful and very experienced
Until she crashed into a wall
Where the hordes of the evil Franco-fascist
Were shooting the Republicans.
As she fell to the ground
There was a broken guitar without strings
She was playing with her feet
Some imagined strings.
Such glory she had!
Fleeing from the Cemetery 
By jumping over the wall
Outside, a few sons of bitches 
Were waiting for her
Inciting a guard dog
At which they shouted furiously:
-Swallow it, dog. Swallow it!
The dog successfully reached
The beautiful crotch garment.
When they announced
That another bus was coming to pick us up
As we left the Cemetery
All of our stomachs were hurting
Proving that those of us who had entered
Were so lazy and fearful
That we didn't dare go to the bathroom
Shitting ourselves outside
On our feet.