No Cordão da Saideira
Edu Lobo
In The Queue For The Last Call
Today there's no dancing
There's no more girls with braids
Nor the smell of lança-perfume in the air
Today there's no frevo
There's people that pass along in fear
And in the square no one to sing
I remember it very well
And it's as grand as it is nostalgic
That it seems true
That the times can still come back
The times of the Ponta de Pedra beach
Of the moonlight, of the street blocks
Of fright, escaping into the starfruit tree
Of the Bumba Meu Boi
That time which was
Fried needlefish, canjica, clove and cinnamon
The serenade I made for her
Every full Moon
The times of parades on Aurora Street
The youngster in step
The lady and the lad from the Olinda tram
From below and from above
The gazebo
I'll no longer forget
And frevo in spite of (ash) Wednesday
In the queue for the last call
I sell a bedazzled life
