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Con toda la voz que tengo

Anibal TROILOAnibal TROILOmilonga1941-04-1644 videos
Singer: Anibal TROILOSinger 2: Francisco FiorentinoComposer: Aníbal TroiloAuthor: Enrique Dizeo

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Lyrics
Al compás de la milonga,
ya que llegó la ocasión,
voy a cantarle al varón
que de compadre rezonga.
A la sensible chilonga,
que es para todo un resorte,
que es para todo un resorte,
al tango pero con corte
que se va quebrando un poco,
y que lo hace volver loco
al mozo del sur y del norte.

A la casita compadre,
que le da el sol de arrabal,
al vestido de percal
y al chisme de la comadre.
Al besito de la madre
que le da al hijo bandido,
que le da al hijo bandido,
al que le alague el oído
con un consejo bien sano,
a la pobre hija del tano
que no volvió más al nido.

Al amigo que respeta
y que se hace respetar,
al que se pone a pensar,
si ve triste a una pebeta.
Al intuitivo poeta,
que aunque viva sin un cobre,
que aunque viva sin un cobre,
una palabra le sobre
para decir en su canto,
que también tiene su encanto
un baile, en un barrio pobre.

Al matecito espumoso
que me dan donde yo voy.
Pa'l que sea como yo soy,
con el enfermo amoroso.
Al que no se haga el gracioso
ni se tire a la bartola,
ni se tire a la bartola,
con la galleguita Lola
de mi suburbio porteño,
que vive buscando dueño
pero que siempre anda sola.
English translation
To the beat of the milonga,
since the occasion has arrived,
I'm going to sing to the man
who as a compadre rezonga.
To the sensitive chilonga
that is for all a spring,
who is for a whole spring,
to the tango but with a cut
that is breaking a little,
and that makes him go crazy
to the southern and northern waiter.

To the little house compadre,
that gives the sun of the suburbs,
to the percale dress
and to the gossip of the comadre.
To the mother's little kiss
that gives to the bandit son,
who gives to the bandit son,
to the one who flatters her ear
with a healthy piece of advice,
to the poor daughter of the tano
who never returned to the nest.

To the friend who respects
and who makes himself respected,
to the one who gets to thinking,
if he sees a little girl sad.
To the intuitive poet
who even if he lives without a copper,
who even if he lives without a copper,
he has a word left over
to say in his song,
that he also has his charm
a dance, in a poor neighborhood.

To the sparkling matecito
that they give me wherever I go.
For me to be as I am,
with the lovesick.
To the one who doesn't act funny
or lie down at the barbecue,
or lie down at the barbecue,
with the little Galician girl Lola
of my Buenos Aires suburb
who lives looking for an owner
but who is always alone.

The Cabeceo