Текст песни Пахоменков Пётр - Вот и наша, братцы, очередь пришла.

So our, brothers, the queue came,
The war flared up on the border,
Waiting for us tanks, cartridges and shells,
And Lyhai soldiers' fate
But we will go to the fire not for the awards,
For the country, for native cities.

And on the front everything is frown and burns,
Granite even melts from breaks,
We probably will not return home,
But we believe that the enemy will be broken,
So let's guys, let's swear
That no one is gratifying Russia!

But sometime the war will end,
And the flowers again decorate the earth,
And funnels, trenches and graves
Turn into ravines and fields
Give, God, good luck to us and strength,
The rest we take on yourself.

Author Pakhomenkov Peter.