Deus Gaúcho
Grupo Rodeio
Gaucho God
It matters little, whether
A hooded figure, Jesuit
A handsome man without luxury
What matters
Is that he left in all of us
The pride of being Gaucho
In the flutter of his poncho
He dawned in the countryside
With his trousers rolled up
Maltese cross, feet on the ground
He sat down with the cowboys
To have mate in the shed
He told stories of the missions
Of our revolution
His voice sounded in his mouth
Rio Grande in his heart
Against the smoke of a bonfire
He was showing
Our ragged image
Fighting in wars
In the faith of a people valiant, brave and without luxury
We conquered freedom
Because God was born Gaucho, hey
The mate warmed the conversation
Passing from hand to hand
He talked about ideals
Of the purest tradition
He left as a gift a knife
A machete, a pair of spurs
To defend my Rio Grande
Any day, any time
He kissed the hand of the cowboys
Said goodbye and left
