[Verse 1]
In Madrid the ledgers stack like cordwood by the throne,
Philip rules an empire but the treasury's a loan,
Genoese financiers float him silver up front,
Short asientos due in months — that's the hunt.
Potosí mountain bleeds its silver down the chute,
Every galleon's cargo is a promise cut to suit,
But the mint can't match the pace of a crown with no brake,
So the bankers hold the paper, watch the whole thing shake.
[Chorus]
Fifty-seven, sixty, seventy-five, ninety-six,
Four decretos falling like a juggler's trick,
Short-term asiento turns to long-term juro bond,
Potosí silver is the pledge they're fond —
Not a crash, call it a renegotiation,
Castile's the borrower from hell with a reputation
For paying back eventually, so don't call it sin,
Contingent and excusable — the game lets him back in.
[Verse 2]
Watch the conversion, it's a sleight of royal hand,
Debt that choked the quarter turns to decades on the land,
Juros pay their interest slow, stretched across the years,
While the Genoese swallow hard and mask their fears,
Because next spring there's another fleet to fund,
Another siege in Flanders, another battle lost or won,
So they come back to the table, sign the contract twice,
Lending to the borrower from hell still looks precise.
[Chorus]
Fifty-seven, sixty, seventy-five, ninety-six,
Four decretos falling like a juggler's trick,
Short-term asiento turns to long-term juro bond,
Potosí silver is the pledge they're fond —
Not a crash, call it a renegotiation,
Castile's the borrower from hell with a reputation
For paying back eventually, so don't call it sin,
Contingent and excusable — the game lets him back in.
[Bridge]
Drelichman and Voth read the books line by line,
Found a system built to bend, never built to decline,
Repeated games reward the debtor who returns,
Castile kept its credit while the parchment burns.
No madness in the margins, just leverage and trust,
A crown and its creditors negotiating must —
Call it a hell of a borrower, but never call it bust.
[Verse 3]
By ninety, the royal coffer's scraped down to the bone,
So he turns to the Cortes, not ruling it alone,
They vote him the millones — a tax on wine and meat,
Consent before collection made the burden feel discreet.
Now glance across the water where England keeps its course,
Parliament controls the purse, the crown bends to that force,
Castile begs permission only when it's forced to bow —
No standing fiscal body, just borrow, strain, and vow.
[Chorus]
Fifty-seven, sixty, seventy-five, ninety-six,
Four decretos falling like a juggler's trick,
Short-term asiento turns to long-term juro bond,
Potosí silver is the pledge they're fond —
Not a crash, call it a renegotiation,
Castile's the borrower from hell with a reputation
For paying back eventually, so don't call it sin,
Contingent and excusable — the game lets him back in.