| I would play the tambourine
|
| Lere lere lere lere
|
| But they have to invite me
|
| To play the tambourine
|
| Hitting with so much courage
|
| As the verse comes into his mouth
|
| Ai; |
| Who could sing it
|
| Unintentionally, and dance it
|
| They can't say it doesn't sound
|
| Not that it soaks the tocaor
|
| And if anyone could hurt me
|
| Better a poor horse than no horse at all
|
| And let him become deaf
|
| Little by little whoever comes will come
|
| Lere lere lere lere
|
| The dancers work
|
| Little by little, whoever wants to come
|
| He would throw me in the face
|
| Lere lere lere lere
|
| Alas, my gaze has returned
|
| Read me and catch me
|
| They can't say it doesn't sound
|
| Not that it soaks the tocaor
|
| And if anyone could hurt me
|
| Better a poor horse than no horse at all
|
| And let him become deaf
|
| Bite your voice
|
| That he says no when he does
|
| If you want no wine
|
| You just have to be more discriminating with the help you render toward other people
|
| That here one does not come to suffer
|
| If you want no wine
|
| Take advantage of the bonanza
|
| And it's snowing and it's calm
|
| Scattered wheat in the era
|
| And in the field the burnt straw
|
| That doesn't cool yet
|
| And we like it
|
| To celebrate
|
| They can't say it doesn't sound
|
| Not that it soaks the tocaor
|
| And if anyone could hurt me
|
| Better a poor horse than no horse at all
|
| And let him become deaf
|
| If the job is not turned upside down
|
| And it doesn't matter what you pay for
|
| There is still enough party left
|
| Put the crap out
|
| And make the gap in the pains
|
| Set fire to the cauldron
|
| They can't say it doesn't sound
|
| Not that it soaks the tocaor
|
| And if anyone could hurt me
|
| Better a poor horse than no horse at all
|
| And let him become deaf |