Rosinha Dos Limões

When she passes by, petite
And full of grace
There's always a mischievous air
In her bewitching gaze
There she goes, every day more beautiful
And her dress, made of chintz
Always has a Sunday look

Passing swiftly, cheerful and flirtatious
And smiling, at the whole street
She's sowing illusions
When she passes by
Selling lemons at the square
And they even call her, for fun
Rosinha of the lemons

When she passes
By my window
My eyes follow her
Until I see the end of the street
With a mischievous air
She walks hurriedly
Laughing about everything and nothing
And sometimes she smiles at me

When she passes
Announcing the lemons
Alone, with my thoughts
In the opening of my window
I think, that any
day, for fun
I'll buy lemons at the square
And then, marry her!