Velha Chica (Old Chica) Lyrics

Once upon a time old Chica used to sell cola and ginger and in the afternoon she would wash the clothes of some important signor; and we, the kids at school would ask old ma Chica the reason for such poverty and for our suffering. Little boy, don?t speak of politics, don?t speak of politics, don?t speak of politics. But old Chica, wrapped in thought, she knew but would not tell the reason for that suffering. Little boy don?t speak of politics, don?t speak of politics, don?t speak of politics. Time went by and old Chica only got older. All she built was a kubata* with a roof of zinc, with a roof of zinc. Little boy don?t speak of politics, don?t speak of politics, don?t speak of politics. But now whoever sees the face of that lady only sees the lines of suffering, of suffering! And now she only says: ?- Little boy, when I die, I want to see Angola living in peace! Little boy, when I die, I want to see Angola and the world in peace!? *African mud hut