Roubo Da Gaita Velha

I lost my old harmonica, never could find it again
So I make an appeal to whoever finds my harmonica

Return my old harmonica, do me this favor
I live off my ideas as a singer

So you know the way of the old harmonica
It had the sound of a master bee working in the hives

It had nineteen keys and eight button basses
A tourniquet on the side to reduce the blow

It cried in a vaneira like only it cried
If the girl was single, by God, she would date me

When I pulled it all the way, it measured the middle of the room
Showing holes from a rombo, some bullet holes

The keys of the old harmonica didn't even need polishing
It smelled like a ranch, it would start to open

Once I went to a store at Seu Téia's field
They entertained me with races to steal my old harmonica

So I live playing with this borrowed harmonica
Remembering the old harmonica that was stolen from me long ago

And now I come to sing to this distinguished audience
To ask if by chance you find it, return my old harmonica