Текст песни Утесов Леонид - Песенка Военных Корреспондентов

From Moscow to Brest
There is no place,
Wherever we wandered in the dust,
With the "watering" and with a notebook,
And even with a machine gun
we went through fire and cold.


Without the sip, comrade,
The song is not welded,
So come for a small offering,
Here's to write,
Here's to shoot,
Here's to marching under fire.


I have to drink a reason -
For military wire
For the U-2, "Emku" for success ...
As we marched on foot.
As a shoulder thrust,
How do we keep up before anyone else.


From winds and vodka
Our throats hoarse.
But we say to those who reproach:
- With our pokochuyte,
With our ponochuyte,
With our povoyuyte third year.


Where we have been,
We did not give tanks,
Reporter dies - it does not matter ...
But "Ehmke" ragged
And with a revolver
We were the first to enter the city.


To remember us just right
Dead reporters.
He became grave and the Crimea Kiev them.
Although they sometimes
There were heroes,
Do not erect a monument to them.


So let's drink to victory,
In his paper,
And we will not live, my dear,
Anyone hears
Relieve and write,
Does anyone remember his us with you.