Seven balloon skirts
You then take to the pilgrimage
Seven deadly sins
That are showing you are all going to be in strife
Each of its colour
Wherever you go with them
With the seven skipping,
According to the step of your slippers
Seven skirts you bring to fall from the hip
And the white blouse that is really going to kill you
So the boys
Just ask that you fall
To count the skirts without you dancing
With seven I saw you talking
And giving everyone linen handkerchiefs
Does it give you pleasure.
Seven grooms to have
One for each skirt.
According to the voice of reason
Making a collection does not work.
It is best to choose one
And want no more for a boyfriend.
I give you one more piece of advice,
While I am here don't give him any more room
Don't shorten them any more,
If not when you leave, the whole village leaves.
A hand's breadth above the foot
To show Zé where the sock ends,
But for the knee, no
It is confusing and awful.