Nego Betão

There goes Nego Betão
With raw leather gear
More cocky than Tiarajú
In a marching bay horse
For he was born a champion
And he's one of those, my brother
Who goes out fighting with both hands
On a bucking animal

Big guy from the old ranch
That time didn't swallow
A native woman gave birth to him
Right on the edge of a lumberyard
He keeps the cowboy spell
Of a centaur of this land
Who grew old in the vastness
Dealing with cattle

Here comes Nego Betão
Who doesn't spare China and bullet
More fearless than a king on the throne
Hat covering his head
Opening his chest down the road
Right at the rear of the troop

Rough prophet of the ranches
Who always has an argument
Converses with the wind itself
And may seem crazy
What he has in the field and cattle
Was never his friend
And if one day there's a piece left
He shares it with two or three

In the place where this Indian lassos
There's a hole in the ground
From the spurs of his big boots
Sawing only with his two hooves
He was born attached to the saddle
And when the mule starts braying
The old handle goes crossing
Tearing up earth with pasture