Chords
LADRÃO DE TERRA

Key: D

Introduction:

           D                                                                 A7                                                                           D 
Tinha eu quatorze anos quando deixei meu estado
                                                           A7                                                             D 
Meu pai era sitiante trabalhador e honrado
                                                                       A7                                                                         D 
Por este mundo de deus eu dei murro no pesado
                                                                                   A7                                                                   D 
Quando a sorte me ajudava o meu plano foi cortado.
                 D7                                           G 
Triste notícia chegava
                                                                                 A7                                                               D 
Meu destino transformava, eu fiquei um revoltado.
 D                                                         A7                                                                   D 
Meu pai tinha falecido na carta vinha dizendo
                                                                       A7                                                                                       D 
As terras que ele deixou, minha mãe acabou perdendo
                                                                                 A7                                                                                 D 
Para um grande fazendeiro que abusava dos pequenos
                                                                             A7                                                                               D 
Meu sangue ferveu na veia, quando eu fiquei sabendo
                           D7                                           G 
Invadiram as terras minha,
                                                                             A7                                                                           D 
Tocaram minha mãezinha pra roubar nosso terreno.
                                                                         A7                                                                     D 
Eu voltei pra minha terra foi com dor no coração
                                                                           A7                                                                   D 
Procurando o meu direito, eu entrei num tabelião
                                                                         A7                                                             D 
Quase que também caía nas unhas do gavião,
                                                                                 A7                                                       D 
Por que o dono do cartório protegia embrulhão.
                       D7                                                 D 
Me falou que o fazendeiro,
                                                                 A7                                                                       D 
Tinha rios de dinheiro pra gastar nesta questão.
                                                                         A7                                                                           D 
Respondi no pé da letra , não tenho nenhum tostão
                                                                                     A7                                                     D 
Meu dinheiro é dois revolver e bala no cinturão
                                                                         A7                                                         D 
Se aqui não tiver justiça para minha proteção
                                                                                 A7                                                                       D 
Vou mandar os trapaceiros pra sete palmo do chão.
                   D7                                                 D 
Embora saia uma guerra
                                                                               A7                                                                 D 
Vou matar ladrão de terra dentro da minha razão.
                                                                             A7 
Negar a terra pros caboclos, ai, ai,
                                                                                                               D 
É negar pão pros nossos filhos, ai, ai,
                                                                                     A7 
Tira a terra a terra dos caboclos ai, ai,
                                                                                                   D 
É tirar o Brasil dos trilhos, ai, ai,
                                                                                         A7                                                                 D 
Nós estávamos de onze a onze na parada nesse dia,
                                                                   A7                                                                 D 
Os pobre é carta baixa e os ricos são a mania,
                                                                 A7                                                                   D 
Foi uma chuva de bala só capanga que corria
                                                           A7                                                                       D 
Foi pela primeira vez que o dinheiro não valia
                       D7                                     D 
O barulho acabou cedo
                                                                         A7                                                                   D 
Entregaram foi de medo terras que me pertencia.
                                                                   A7 
Na cerca da minha terra, ai, ai,
                                                                                                                   D 
Quem mexer ninguém imagina, ai, ai,
                                                                   A7 
Os arames são de bala, ai, ai,
                                                                                                 D 
E os mourão de carabina, ai, ai!