No Galpão da Bulandeira

This year I'm going to play, in the bulandeira shed.
I want to see the dust rise, in the bulandeira shed.
There will be loud fireworks, in the bulandeira shed.
Everyone from the riverside, in the bulandeira shed.

In September we start drilling
In December we plant
It thundered in March, we sow the same year
In mid-April, there was already something to comb.
I see green flourishing, green corn hanging

In the backcountry having plenty
We have full bellies
We chat, we celebrate
We talk, we sway
Light the bonfire
The accordion and guitar moan
Call the people to the yard
To cheer for Saint John