Geléia Geral

A poet unfurls the flag
And the tropical morning begins
Resplendent, falling, shining
In a sunflower heat with joy
In the general Brazilian jelly
That the Jornal do Brasil announces
Hey, bumba-yê-yê-boi
Next year, month that was
Hey, boom-yê-yê-yê
It's the same dance, my ox

Joy is the proof of nine
And sadness is your safe haven
My land is where the Sun is cleaner
And Mangueira is where samba is purest
Tumbadora in the wild
Pindorama, country of the future

Hey, bumba-yê-yê-boi
Next year, month that was
Hey, boom-yê-yê-yê
It's the same dance, my ox

It's the same dance in the room
In the Canecão, on TV
And those who don't dance don't speak
Watch everything and keep quiet
Can't see in the middle of the room
The relics of Brazil
Sweet evil mulatto
A Sinatra LP
Passion fruit, month of April
Bahian baroque saint
Civilian superpower
Formiplac and indigo sky
Three highlights of Portela
Dried meat in the window
Someone who cries for me
A real carnival
Hospitable friendship
Garden brutality

Hey, bumba-yê-yê-boi
Next year, month that was
Hey, boom-yê-yê-yê
It's the same dance, my ox

Pluralva, happy and cheerful
Miss Linda Brazil says: Good morning
And another girl too Carolina
From the window he examines the revelry
Save the beautiful banner of your eyes
And the health that the look radiates

Hey, bumba-yê-yê-boi
Next year, month that was
Hey, boom-yê-yê-yê
It's the same dance, my ox

A poet unfurls the flag
And I feel better colored
I take a jet, I travel, I rock
With the sixth sense script
Voice of the hill, concrete ram
Tropicália, bananas in the wind

Hey, bumba-yê-yê-boi
Next year, month that was
Hey, boom-yê-yê-yê
It's the same dance, my ox