Na Vida Por Sorte

After the fence is ready
Like a part of the cattle
All the horses tamed
The horse saddled
Hard work of a cowboy
Disinherited without direction
Who in life by luck
Got used to the boss
Sheared the herd
Day earned in the fist
Wet dawns
Cattle stuck in the mud

I'm a child of the wind
Herder of the herd
The work here is tough
With no time or resting place
So I ask the boss
-Why do I have so little?
Without my own horse
Without my ranch, without a home

Hard work of a cowboy
Disinherited without direction
Who in life by luck
Got used to the boss

Team of oxen in the plow
Old worn-out hat
A few coins in the pocket
Wrapped up for the pantry
Caravans, cattle drives
Wind and tired herd
With no future or past
Living calloused