Che Bartolo

Big shot from the slums, scoundrel of half and half
Get ready for this blow that I'm going to give you
I'm not trying to expose you for singing a folk song
But because with your shine, you won't fool me

Hey, high-class dude, poor guy, I'll tell you something that makes me happy
Watching you among the riffraff who pretend to be fancy
The fools call you the Marquis of Bocanegra
Just like they call me a thief, a blacksmith, or a partridge

Hey, Bartolo
Realize if you've turned shady
Trying to disguise yourself
Bocanegra
Let's see which mother-in-law
Can put up with you!
Dressed in black
You only have your record
Let's see how you hide it
Hey Bartolo
As a convict, I ask you
To drop the last name
Of that noble Genoese

If the insolent monocle gives you a fancy air
And that fancy outfit paints you as a Marquis
Your old man's curdela doesn't fit the same way
Among the riffraff, his old age is dragged

I don't know with what picklock you opened this hole
That us convicts call society
To me, you got it wrong, the candombe convicts
It's the right society where you can fit in

Hey, Bartolo
Realize if you've turned shady
Trying to disguise yourself
Bocanegra
Let's see which mother-in-law
Can put up with you!
Dressed in black
You only have your record
Let's see how you hide it
Hey Bartolo
As a convict, I ask you
To drop the last name
Of that noble Genoese