NIÑO BIEN

Well to do boy (1928)

LYRICS by: Víctor Soliño / Roberto Fontaina

MUSIC by: Juan Antonio Collazo

TRANSLATION by: Alberto Paz

Last updated on: 6/3/11

Return to Index

Sing along with Tita Merello

Comments

CASTELLANO

ENGLISH

Niño bien, pretencioso y engrupido, que tenés berretín de figurar; niño bien que llevás dos apellidos y que usás de escritorio el Richmond Bar. Vanidoso, la vas de distinguido y siempre hablás de la estancia de papá, mientras tu viejo, pa’ ganarse el puchero, todos los días sale a vender fainá. Vos te creés que porque hablás de ti, fumás tabaco inglés, usas guantes caqui, y te cortás las patillas a lo Rodolfo sos un fifí. Porque usás la corbata carmín y allá en el Chantecler la vas de bailarín, y te mandás la biaba de gomina, te creés que sos un rana y sos un pobre gil. Niño bien, que naciste en el suburbio de un bulín alumbrao a querosén, que tenés pedigrée bastante turbio y decís que sos de familia bien. No manyás (notas) que estás mostrando la hilacha y al caminar con tu aire triunfador se ve bien claro que tenés mucha clase para lucirla detrás de un mostrador. Vos te creés que porque hablás de ti, fumás tabaco inglés, usas guantes caqui, y te cortás las patillas a lo Rodolfo sos un fifí. Porque usás la corbata carmín y allá en el Chantecler la vas de bailarín, y te mandás la biaba de gomina, te creés que sos un rana y sos un pobre gil.

Well to do boy, pretentious, and conceited, you have the delusion of a show off; well to do boy who has a hyphened surname and use the Richmond Bar as your desk. Foppish pretending to be distinguished and always talking about dad’s ranch, while your old man, to put food on the table every day goes out to sell fainá. You think because you speak well smoke English snuff, wear caqui gloves and shave your sideburns like Rodolfo, you’re a gallant. Because you wear a tie color carmine and over at the Chantecler you pretend to be a dancer, and grease your hair with gel, you think you’re really smart but you’re a poor stupid. Well to do boy, who was born in the suburb in a whorehouse lit by kerosene lamps, who has quite a murky pedigree and say that you’re  from a well to do family. Don’t you know that you’re being transparent and walking with that winning attitude it is clear that you have a lot of class, to show it off behind a counter. You think because you speak well smoke English snuff, wear caqui gloves and shave your sideburns like Rodolfo, you’re a gallant. Because you wear a tie color carmine and over at the Chantecler you pretend to be a dancer, and grease your hair with gel, you think you’re really smart but you’re a poor stupid.

Copyright (c) Planet Tango 1998-2011 All Rights Reserved