O Rancho da Goiabada
Elis Regina
The Guava Paste Ranch
The farmworkers when they have a drink
Chasing away the sadness
Dreaming of steak-and-eggs, french fries
And dessert
It's guava paste with lots of cheese
Then coffee, cigarette, and a kiss
From a mulatto named Leonor or Dagmar
To love
The battery-powered radio, the alligator stove, the lunchbox, the Sunday
at the bar
Where so many alike gather telling lies
To be able to endure
Oh, they are shamans, hitchhikers are samba dancers
They are flagellants, they are pendants, shop assistants
Clowns, Martians, cannibals, lilies, crazies
Dancing asleep with eyes open in the shadow of the allegory
Of the embalmed pharaohs
