Gimme a girl and hold the dog

I’ve just been reading a fantastic selection (La fiera corrupia, ed JM Rexach) of ballads and the like printed by Coromines of Lleida/Lerida in the mid-nineteenth century. As well as classics like The Beast of Jerusalem, sundry executions, famines, hail storms, and the obligatory poop-piece, it includes a very cute lovesong by F(r)ederico Logroño, First Corporal in the 3rd Company of Engineers. Soldier Logroño talks straight and stays well clear of the excessively mammiferous clichés of contemporary verse:

In the garden of Adonis
Your breasts two lemons are
Which give a subtle fragrance,
A horomatic odóur.

The translation might be improved if I knew what horomático meant–my best guess is that we have here an out of control item taking advantage of an r/l swap and deriving from the Greek prefix holo-:

Son tus pechos dos limones
Que en jardin del amor
Despiden con su fragrancia
Un horomático olor.

The lady’s horomatic smelliness fazed one somewhat, so no dismay was experienced when the next verse on first reading seemed to praise her for her sparkle, wisdom, discretion, and the fact that she didn’t own a dog:

Entre todas la mugeres
Te distingues con salero,
En saber y discrección:
Eres la dama sin pero.

OK, it’s pero not perro: she’s the lady without a but, which is also kind of sweet.

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