Saudosa Maloca

If you don’t remember,
Let me tell you a tale.
Right here where you stand,
This tall building,
Used to be an old house,
A two-story palace.

It was here, my friend, that I, Mato Grosso, and Joca
Built our little shack.
But one day, we couldn’t even recall,
The men came with their tools,
The owner ordered it torn down.

We took all our stuff
And went out to the street,
Watching the demolition.
What sadness we felt,
Each board that fell
Ached in our hearts.

Mato Grosso wanted to shout,
But I said,
The guys are right,
We’ll find another place.

We only found peace
When Joca said,
God gives the cold according to the blanket,
And today we’re picking up the pieces
In the grass of the garden.

And to forget our pain, we sing like this:
Nostalgic shack, dear shack,
Where we spent our days happy in our lives.
Nostalgic shack, dear shack,
Where we spent our days happy in our lives.