Cachaceiro

I don't drink cachaça because I'm afraid
Cachaça is good, but it's not a toy
The man who drinks doesn't keep secrets
Goes to bed very late and wakes up early
With a bitter mouth and spitting sour

The man who drinks gets a little crazy
Drinks a bottle and says it's too little
When he gets home, he's speaking hoarsely
He hits his wife and child
With a mouth smelling like a rotten egg

These drunkards are what I find funny
They arrive at the bar to drink cachaça
With a lit cigarette releasing smoke
They spend the whole day causing trouble
Telling tall tales and denying their race

Many drink cachaça and say it's a profession
They think cachaça is food
Because of cachaça, they scorn bread
When they see a glass on the counter
Their eyes light up like a lamp

Those who drink cachaça do it because they like it
They drink the white one and also the yellow
When there's no glass, they drink from a bowl
They sleep on the roads on top of the grass
One day this guy will die without a candle

He'll die without a candle with the big bottle by his side
His soul leaves the body somewhat scorched
He arrives in heaven, but the gate is closed
St. Peter doesn't open it because he's annoyed
In heaven, no drunk people enter