| Go, go, let the joke begin
|
| There's a charanga playing all night
|
| Come, come, come see the real circus
|
| There are, there are, there are quality arenas
|
| Run, run, my people
|
| that you have to be smart
|
| Whoever wants to go ahead
|
| Sees better who sees up close
|
| But in the middle of the revelry
|
| High night, open sky
|
| The wind that protests blows
|
| Falls on ceiling, breaks canvas
|
| Why the hitchhiking moon
|
| You can also see the party
|
| Go, go, let the joke begin
|
| There's a charanga playing all night
|
| Come, come, come see the real circus
|
| There are, there are, there are quality arenas
|
| Well I remember the trapeze artist
|
| How deadly was your jump
|
| Swinging high above
|
| It looked like a toy
|
| But I was so scared
|
| That Zézinho do Trombone
|
| Of consecrated renown
|
| Forgot your own name
|
| And hugged the microphone
|
| To play your folded
|
| Go, go, let the joke begin
|
| There's a charanga playing all night
|
| Come, come, come see the real circus
|
| There are, there are, there are quality arenas
|
| I write verses for the clown
|
| That in life was everything
|
| He was a soldier, a carpenter
|
| Serenader and vagabond
|
| Without judgment and without judgment
|
| Made everyone happy
|
| But deep down I didn't know
|
| Due in his face colored
|
| All the charm of the smile
|
| May your people not smile
|
| Go, go, let the joke begin
|
| There's a charanga playing all night
|
| Come, come, come see the real circus
|
| There are, there are, there are quality arenas
|
| From whip and scowl
|
| Tamer gets stronger
|
| Half a turn, a half turn
|
| Half life, half death
|
| finishing your stop
|
| Suddenly the beast disappears
|
| Tamer who was brave
|
| In other beasts it is consumed
|
| Your indifferent love
|
| Your life and your hunger
|
| Go, go, let the joke begin
|
| There's a charanga playing all night
|
| Come, come, come see the real circus
|
| There are, there are, there are quality arenas
|
| Speak the bellows of the accordion
|
| Speak to the little flute
|
| That the best will come now
|
| What emerges from the dancer
|
| That her body is a lady's
|
| what a girl's face
|
| Who cried no longer cries
|
| who sang out of tune
|
| Because the dance only ends
|
| When the night goes away
|
| Go, go, end the joke
|
| That charanga played all night
|
| The circus dies, it is reborn in the memory
|
| Gone —and I was still a child |