Composer: Sandra Belê
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The English translation is below the Portuguese lyrics
Full lyrics
Coqueiro dá coco
Dá palha para a tapera
Um tera de hd é pouco
Para os beats de tantas eras
Cabelo lanoso cortando o fio da navalha
Neto de nego forro
Batendo pilão nos quintais
Os filhos do semba, nas trilhas da senda
Rasgando a mortalha
Pra brincar nos carnavais
E orvalhar o suor da festa
Manejo no dorso no tempo-espaço da gandaia
Na dor da lonjura, das capitais
Vaqueiro valente com faca nos dentes
Rasgando a imbira que amarra a cangalha
No cabrunco dos currais, pra levar o balaio na testa
Coqueiro dá coco
Dá palha para a tapera
Um tera de hd é pouco
Para os beats de tantas eras
Cabelo lanoso cortando o fio da navalha
Neto de nego forro
Batendo pilão nos quintais
Os filhos do semba, nas trilhas da senda
Rasgando a mortalha
Pra brincar nos carnavais
E orvalhar o suor da festa
Manejo no dorso no tempo-espaço da gandaia
Na dor da lonjura, das capitais
Vaqueiro valente com faca nos dentes
Rasgando a imbira que amarra a cangalha
No cabrunco dos currais, pra levar o balaio na testa
Ô Dora, Dorinha mulher
Eu sei tu gastou colher em cova rasa
Melhor fosse cavar pra plantar um rosa
Translation
Coconut tree gives coconuts
Gives straw for the tapera
One terabyte of HD is little
For the beats of so many eras
Woolly hair cutting the razor's edge
Grandson of nego forro
Pounding mortar in the backyards
The children of semba, on the trails of the path
Tearing the shroud
To play in the carnivals
And dew the sweat of the party
Handling on the back in the time-space of the gandaia
In the pain of the distance, from the capitals
Brave vaqueiro with a knife in his teeth
Tearing the imbira that ties the cangalha
In the cabrunco of the corrals, to carry the balaio on his forehead
Coconut tree gives coconuts
Gives straw for the tapera
One terabyte of HD is little
For the beats of so many eras
Woolly hair cutting the razor's edge
Grandson of nego forro
Pounding mortar in the backyards
The children of semba, on the trails of the path
Tearing the shroud
To play in the carnivals
And dew the sweat of the party
Handling on the back in the time-space of the gandaia
In the pain of the distance, from the capitals
Brave vaqueiro with a knife in his teeth
Tearing the imbira that ties the cangalha
In the cabrunco of the corrals, to carry the balaio on his forehead
Oh Dora, Dorinha woman
I know you wasted a spoon in a shallow grave
Better it would be to dig to plant a rose
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