And a beautiful little boy
who calls himself Popeye
Oh, good night,
look at the night moon
And the moon shows the clouds
Drops fall on my beautiful flowers
And a beautiful little boy
who calls himself Popeye
Oh, good night,
look at the night moon
Oh, what a strong rain
hits my balcony
Roses sing in my garden
with passion
He hid his impudence
with vivacity and reason
to the rain that sounded
on his balcony
And tomorrow we will go out for a walk
White flowers accompany us to play
And that Zimbulondon
Coplas sings with vigor
We will have a great party without thinking
you
