I am the son of the interior of the great state mining
I was a hero with no medal in the profession of trail
Pulling logs of the woods with twelve oxen Pantaneiro
I helped clear our Brazilian jungle
Without vanity I confess
From our immense progress
I was one of the pioneers
See and the destination changes the life of a man
With an evil disease consumes my boiada
Just got to drew a bull mongrel lobisomen
Being black coal was equal to that I would put this name
But shortly after
I sold that steer
Pros children do not starve
Bored with the change decided fortune away
And in a big city with his family was living
For me, I had to be illiterate subject
Working at the slaughterhouse for the bread to win
As I was a strong man
In quiavalgado cutting
Two companions bled
Look how our lives change suddenly
I cried that sometimes when a cow was sick
There I was obliged kill innocent bridle
But some day I turned again to its destination
The steer the color of coal
To die in my hand
I was on my way
When I saw my cow trail does not contain the emotion
My eyes filled d'áqua my tears fell on the floor
The bull recognized me and lick my hand
Without power to save the life of my steer a pet
Although I was asked to account
Quit at the same time
That thankless profession
