Fom Foron Fom Fom
Zé Davi um cachaceiro, desses de pé de balcão
Resolveu ser sanfoneiro
Lá na nossa região
Conjunto Chico Vida, pegou fama no sertão
No lugar que ele passava, de tão ruim que ele tocava
Servia de mangação
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
A poeira levantando e os cabras bêbo gritando
Dizendo ô conjunto bom
O fole velho furado, fazia fonrom fon fon
Um triângulo enferrujado, e o pandeiro sem ter som
O povo sapateando, mas ninguém ouvia o tom
A poeira levantando, e os cabras bêbo gritando
Dizendo ô conjunto bom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
A poeira levantando e os cabras bêbo gritando
Dizendo ô conjunto bom
Tocava de olho fechado, mas a música não saia
O triângulo era um arame, e a pancada não tinia
O zabumba sem compasso, o ritmo ninguém ouvia
Pois o couro era rasgado, e o povo agarrado
Sem saber pra donde ia
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Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
A poeira levantando e os cabras bêbo gritando
Dizendo ô conjunto bom
Vai minhas calanguinhas
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Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
A poeira levantando e os cabras bêbo gritando
Dizendo ô conjunto bom
Fom Foron Fom Fom
Zé Davi, a drunkard, one of those barstool types
Decided to be an accordion player
In our neck of the woods
Chico Vida's band got famous in the backcountry
Wherever he played, so bad was his sound
It became a joke
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The dust was rising and the drunks were shouting
Saying, what a great band
The old leaky accordion made a fonrom fon fon
A rusty triangle, and the tambourine had no sound
The crowd was stomping, but no one heard the beat
The dust was rising, and the drunks were shouting
Saying, what a great band
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
The dust was rising and the drunks were shouting
Saying, what a great band
He played with his eyes closed, but the music wouldn’t come
The triangle was just a wire, and the hit didn’t ring
The zabumba had no rhythm, no one could hear the beat
'Cause the skin was torn, and the crowd was stuck
Not knowing where to go
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
The dust was rising and the drunks were shouting
Saying, what a great band
Come on, my little lizards
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
Fom, foron fom fom
Foron fom fom
The dust was rising and the drunks were shouting
Saying, what a great band