Roubo da Gaita Velha

I lost my old harmonica
I could never find it again
That's why I make an appeal to
Whoever finds my harmonica

Return my old harmonica
Do me this favor
I live off my ideas
In the role of a singer

So that they know about
The way of the old harmonica
It had the sound of a master bee
Working in the hives

It had nineteen keys
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 court me

When I pulled it all the way
It measured the middle of the room
Showing holes and tears
And some bullet holes

The key 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
There at Seu Téia's field
They distracted me
To steal my old harmonica

That's why I come 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