Paroles et traduction Os Serranos - Bailanta do Tibúrcio

Bailanta do Tibúrcio

Vou contar de uma bailanta que existiu no meu pontão
Indiada do queixo roxo que nunca frouxou o garrão
Vinho curtido em barril e cachaça de borrachão

Os gaiteiros que eram buenos davam a mostra do pano
O Carlito e o Dezidério, o Felício e o Bibiano
Cambiando com o Juvenal num velho estilo 'pampeano

Dona China passou ruge E ajeitou bem o cocó
Cruzou o jaguapassô lavou os pés no jaguassengó
Na bailanta do tibúrcio balanceava o mocotó

Lembranças que são relíquias dos meus tempos de guri
Os pares todos bailando, cousa mais linda eu não vi
Um agarrado no outro pra mode de não cair

E lá pela madrugada bem na hora do café
Dom Tibúrcio mestre sala gritava batendo o pé
Agora levanta os home' para comer as 'muié

Opa, opa será que eu ouvi direito?
Calma, companheiro, que eu já repito o verso

E lá pela madrugada bem na hora do café
Dom Tibúrcio mestre sala gritava batendo o pé
Agora levanta os home' para comer as 'muié

Ha-ha, entendi
Tem que da boia pras 'muié também, tchê?
Isto companheiro

Milho assado era o catete plantado de saraquá
Feijão-preto debulhado a bordoada de manguá
Boia melhor do essa, lhes garanto que não há

É lá no velho pontão linda terra de fartura
Queijo, ambrosia e melado, bolo frito e rapadura
Batata deste tamanho e mandioca desta grossura

Mas que tempo aquele tempo que se vivia feliz
Só a saudade restou lá no garrão do país
Da bailanta, do tibúrcio vertente, cerne e raiz

Tiburcio's Dance

I'm going to tell you about a dance that happened on my ranch
With indigenous people with purple chins who never slacked off
Wine aged in barrels and moonshine from barrels

The bagpipers were good, showing off their style
Carlito, Dezidério, Felício and Bibiano
Trading off with Juvenal in an old 'pampeano style

Dona China put on her lipstick and fixed her hair
She crossed the jaguapassô river and washed her feet in jaguassengó
At Tiburcio's dance, everyone was shaking their hips

Memories that are relics of my childhood
The couples all dancing, it was a beautiful sight
One holding onto the other to avoid falling

And by morning, at coffee time
Dom Tibúrcio, the master of ceremonies, shouted, stamping his foot
Now you men get up and feed the women

Whoa, whoa, did I hear that right?
Hold on, my dear, I'll say it again

And by morning, at coffee time
Dom Tibúrcio, the master of ceremonies, shouted, stamping his foot
Now you men get up and feed the women

Oh, I see
You have to feed the women, too, don't you?
That's right, my dear

Roasted corn was the staple, planted with saraquá
Black beans, shelled with a manguá stick
A meal better than this, I assure you, there is not

There on the old ranch, a beautiful land of plenty
Cheese, honey and molasses, fried cakes and rapadura
Potatoes this big and yucca this thick

But that time, that time when we were happy
Only memories remain, in the heart of the country
Of the dance, of Tiburcio, the source, the center and the root