.Nenhuma esperança à vista
Nada virá do horizonte
Não haverá mais conquistas
E nem quem as conte
Mulheres gastaram as contas
Do terço em Salve-Rainhas
Contando nos dedos os filhos
Que faltam nas vinhas
Prá enxugar tantos olhos
Fizeram muitos moinhos
Mas o vento fo.
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