Текст песни Борис Чирков - Морская баллада .

Song from H / f "Ivan Nikulin - Russian Sailor" (Mosfilm, 1944)

On the branches of the hollow

Music S. Pototsky
Words A. Surkov

On the branches of the hollow
Warm breath breeze.
Over the desert raid of Sevastopol
Not a sickle of the moon, no light.

On this night, bedrooms are bedrooms,
Having breasts darkness night
Walked sailor, saying goodbye with bastions,
With a dead ship.

Walked sailor over bays sad
Where is the soul of all pebbles of cute ...
On the cemetery old, above graves
Convoirs threw the trunks.

He stood. Tennashka striped
Stained thick baked.
He said: "I turned the rich me,
With the black hand he fought smash.

If the wind launched on the field,
Get up try across the path!
A lot of you stretched to Sevastopol,
Yes, a little fucking to leave.

I got up here anchor you are not too early?
The storm will come and outdoor anchor. "
Beaten, not in the way, the rifles were killed,
The sky flooded in blood ...

On the branches of the hollow
Warm breath breeze.
Over the desert raid of Sevastopol
Not a cherry magnifying glass, no light.

Holy war. Victory / Sost songs. V. A. Kostov, G. N. Krasnikov - M.: Olympus, 2005.