Boda

Oh my dear mother
With your child on your back
My dear mother
With your child on your back
Our case, our home
Our life to live
Our case, our home
Our life to live

Oh beloved woman
If I could explain my being to you
Oh beloved woman
If I could explain my being to you
It comes from the colorful handkerchiefs
Little braids to be done
Tiny braids
Like the ones Grandma used to make
Aunt Gina only braided those who smiled
But deep down I know it hurt

Not every miss is a house
Not every iron is hot
Not every fat person is a wedding
Not every poison is a snake
Not the palm of your hand
Not every animal burns
Not every distance invades
Not every rich person steals
Not everything else is leftover
Not my mother's face

The poet is drunk
Speaking of love in the village
The poet is drunk
Speaking of love in the village
You speak, no one listens
You're silent, they ask you
You speak, no one listens
You're silent, they ask you
The kanuku hangs in the maguela
She says she loves you, she swears

Not every miss is a house
Not every iron is hot
Not every fat person is a wedding
Not every poison is a snake
Not the palm of your hand

The prophet is provoked
Speaking nonsense, no one knew
The prophet is provoked
Speaking nonsense, no one knew
Who was left, who survived
Who at night, who during the day
Who was left, who survived
Who kept quiet, who ran away
The Baião has the hall that relieves him
They say he has a tendency for grandeur

Not every miss is a house
Not every iron is hot
Not every fat person is a wedding
Not every poison is a snake
Not the palm of your hand
Not every animal burns
Not every distance invades
Not every rich person steals
Not every rest is leftover
Not my mother's face