I
I asked my mother: 'Mom, where were you born?'
She then replied that she was born in Curitiba
But that her mother, who is my grandmother
Was the daughter of a gaucho who liked barbecue
And wore bombacha and worked on the ranch
And one early morning went hunting behind the hill
When he heard someone shouting: 'Help, help!'
It was a woman's voice
So my great-grandfather, a fearless gaucho
Ran, galloping, imagining the enemy
And arriving at the little ranch, he burst in suddenly
Knocking everything around with his machete in hand
To the relief of the damsel, who pointed astounded
To the sack of potatoes, where there was a cockroach
And then he fell in love
And they set a wedding date with barbecue and chimarrão
And had their three children, my grandmother and her siblings
And I keep imagining, I'm really intrigued
If it weren't for a cockroach, no one would have shouted
My great-grandfather would have heard nothing and continued hunting
I wouldn't have a great-grandfather, great-grandmother, grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, I wouldn't have anything
I wouldn't even exist
I asked my father: 'Dad, where were you born?'
He then told me he was born in Recife
But his father, who is my grandfather
Was the son of a Bahian who traveled in the backlands
And sold things like clothes, pots, and soap
And one day was hunted by Lampião's gang
Who thought he was a spy for the police
And confusion arose
And they tied him to a stick to kill him after lunch
And he, desperate, shouted: 'Help!'
And a girl appeared at the very last moment
And shouted to that gang: 'This guy is a merchant!'
And with great skill, she unraveled the confusion
And he then gave her a gift, a cotton dress
And she fell in love
If that clever girl hadn't passed by
Or if she hadn't fallen in love with that condemned man
I wouldn't have a great-grandfather, great-grandmother, grandfather, grandmother, or a father to marry my mother
So I wouldn't tell this family story
Because I wouldn't even exist to be able to sing
Or play the guitar
