Aguenta a Mão, João

Don't complain, against the storm
That knocked down your shack
Don't complain, hang in there, John
With Cibide, things got worse

Don't complain, 'cause the rain just took your bed
Don't complain, hang in there, John
'Cause tomorrow you'll build a way better shack

About Cibide, poor guy, didn’t I tell you?
He had a lot more in his shack
The flood took his clogs and the lantern
And a pair of socks that he really cherished

Cibide's got us feeling sorry for him
He's out there with one hand behind and the other in front