Translation of the song lyrics Grito Changa - José Larralde

Grito Changa (original)

Me ofrecieron conchabo
Para ir tirando, para ir tirando
El trabajo anda escaso
La paga estrecha
Y el lomo es ancho
Porque tengo a mis hijos
Que a puro brazo los estoy criando
Me priendo a cualquier cosa
El hambre es mucho y el pan escaso
Clavo el hacha en el árbol
Saco los yuyos, armo el andamio
No tengo oficio fijo
De muy chiquito, viví cinchando
Hoy no tengo derecho
Ni pa embromarme dentro el salario
El patrón ya me dijo
Que si me enfermo no se hace cargo
¡La pucha!
Que valgo poco
Si no me alcanza ni pa cigarro
Y el hueso que llevo a casa
Dentro del pecho me está golpeando
Si me agarra la rabia
Y pego el grito, me estoy pensando
Que mis pobres cachorros
No tienen culpa pa darles cargo
Que venga el sabio y diga
Si mi trabajo no vale de algo
Que el sabio me conteste
Si pa tranquiarla no soy un galgo
Si el sabe todo eso
Sabe de sobra que es poco el pago
Por saber tantas cosas
Hacen que el pobre reviente de asco
¡La pucha!
Que valgo poco
Si no me alcanza ni pa cigarro
Y el hueso que llevo a casa
Dentro del pecho me está golpeando
Si me agarra la rabia
Y pego el grito, me estoy pensando
Que mis pobres cachorros
No tienen culpa pa darles cargo

Grito Changa (translation)

They offered me a partner
To go pulling, to go pulling
work is scarce
The narrow pay
And the loin is wide
Because I have my children
That I'm raising them with bare arms
I attach myself to anything
Hunger is great and bread is scarce
I stuck the ax in the tree
I take out the weeds, I put together the scaffolding
I do not have a permanent job
When I was very little, I lived cinching
Today I have no right
Not even to tease me within the salary
The boss already told me
That if I get sick, they don't take responsibility
The whore!
I'm worth little
If he doesn't even reach me for a cigarette
And the bone I take home
Inside my chest it's hitting me
If I get rage
And I scream, I'm thinking
that my poor puppies
They are not to blame to charge them
Let the wise man come and say
If my work is not worth something
let the wise man answer me
Yes, to calm her down, I'm not a greyhound
If he knows all that
He knows very well that the payment is little
for knowing so many things
They make the poor man burst with disgust
The whore!
I'm worth little
If he doesn't even reach me for a cigarette
And the bone I take home
Inside my chest it's hitting me
If I get rage
And I scream, I'm thinking
that my poor puppies
They are not to blame to charge them