Every time I traveled by road from Ouro Fino
From a distance I could see the figure of a boy
That ran to open the gate and then came asking me
"Touch the gaudy, his servant, who is for me to listen"
When the cattle passed and the dust was falling
I threw a coin and it came out jumping:
"Thank you, cowboy God go watching you"
For that particular hinterland besides my playing would garish
In many ways this life I found thorns
But none shut deeper than what I spent
On my trip back anything I cismei
Seeing the closed door, the boy does not spotted
I dismounted from my horse and floor shack on the edge
I saw a woman crying, wanted to know the reason
"Boiadeiro came later see the cross in the dirt road
Who killed my little boy was an ox heartless "
There pras bands Ouro Fino taking wild cattle
When you step on the gate to see its image
Your squeak so sad looks more like a message
That swarthy face wishing me good trip
A little cross in the dirt road not thought out
I’ve made a vow not ever forget
Not to blow my livestock, I need to go after
In this garish piece of ground I do not play more