Текст песни Костя Беляев - Шел трамвай десятый номер

I went tram number ten,
On the landing someone died.
Pull, pull the dead man,
Lamp-Drits-of-swell.

I drove the coach,
The coach does not have a place -
All the dead there on wine each,
Lamp-Drits-of-swell.

Here are a stubborn people!
I'm not dead - just drunk.
I crush polbantsa -
Lamp-Drits-of-swell.

And in his hands, though I was drunk,
All squeeze suitcase.
The suitcase is the matzah,
Lamp-Drits-of-swell!

Early in the morning I woke up,
By the suitcase reached.
What? Where matzah?
Lamp-Drits-of-swell.

They say your cookies
With no sugar jam.
Like, they spit without end,
Lamp-Drits-of-swell!

His drags a suitcase,
To deceive the Slavs!
We will tear thee, villain,
Lamp-Drits-of-swell!