Music: Juan Carlos Rodríguez
Lyrics: Enrique Cadícamo
Translation: Michael Krugman
Recorded by Juan D'Arienzo with Héctor Mauré in 1942
Embedded Files
Español
Español
Compadrito a la violeta,
si te viera Juan Malevo
qué calor te haría pasar.
No tenés siquiera un cacho
de ese barro chapaleado
por los mozos del lugar.
El escudo de los guapos
no te cuenta entre los suyo
por razones de valer.
Tus ribetes de compadre
te engrupieron, no lo dudes.
¡Ya sabrás por qué!
Compadrón
prontuariado de vivillo
entre los amigotes que te siguen,
sos pa' mí,
aunque te duela,
Un compadre sin escuela,
retazo de bacán.
Compadrón, cuando quedes viejo y solo
Compadrón, y remanyes tu retrato,
notarás que nada has hecho...
Tu berretín deshecho verás desmoronar.
(Instrumental)
Aunque busques en tu verba
pintorescos contraflores pa'munirte de cachet,
yo me digo a la sordina
¡Dios te ayude, compadrito de papel maché!
English
English
Good-for-nothing wiseguy,
if Johnny Badass catches up with you
it'll be a shame what happens to you.
You’re less than a speck
of spattered mud
to the local boys.
You count for nothing
in their back-alley aristocracy.
Your little circle of buddies
have already abandoned you, no doubt,
And you know why!
Compadrón,
parasitic small-time hood,
And that’s what your friends call you,
To me,
though it might hurt when I say it,
You’re just an ignorant lug,
a big shot’s soiled handkerchief.
When you get to be old and alone
And you get a load of yourself in the mirror,
You will see that you’ve achieved nothing...
Your shattered illusions will crumble before your eyes
(Instrumental)
Though you talk a lot of shit
To puff yourself up,
Under my breath I say to myself,
“May God help you, My papier-mâché wiseguy!”
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