O BONDE

Cátia de França

Correndo na linha,

Chiando nos trilhos,                                                                                                                                                                            

Varando o arraial                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Jaqueira, Mocambo passando ligeiro,                                                                                                                                                                            

Que nem um filme no Cine Brasil.                                                                                                                                                                             

Moleques no estribo, vaiando, gritando…                                                                                                                                                                         

É dia de festa, é o bonde que vem                                                                                                                                                                                 

E nesse pagode, na festa afinal                                                                                                                                                                              

Eia, lá vem o Bonde!

Levando Sinhá,                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Coroné Zé Paulino                                                                                                                                                                                                           

E a filha mais nova,                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Ele passa enfeitado,                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Cheinho de gente na Rua da Aurora                        

E faz terminal lá no Pátio do Carmo.                                                                                                                                                                              

Do bagageiro se ouve um aviso.                                                                                                                                                                              

É o motorneiro soprando o apito                                                                                                                                                                               

Recomeça a festa: é o bonde que sai!

Tinha um apelido este bonde amarelo                                                                                                                                                                             

Chamado Lambreta todo desbotado                                                                                                                                                                           

Sumiu na distância, Sumiu no passado…                                                                                                                                                                          

Eia, lá vem o bonde!