Текст песни Варшавский Черный кофе - А Наш-то, Наш

They are something the Lord - there is!
And indeed a real hero!
Without fear and trembling in mortal combat
Leads the faithful to build!

And crescent sword over his head,
And his horse rushes boom!

And our something, we - look, my son -
And our something on a donkey clop clop clop
Towards his death.

For those, the Lord - he won what!
And indeed it bestows peace,
Grants-partakes of the eternal peace
Among secular pandemonium!

On-cheeky passion wave of his hand,
Lotus Pose - osenёn silence.

And our something, our - alas, my son -
And our something on a donkey clop clop clop
Towards his death.

These gentlemen - hoo what!
And indeed the lord of the earth!
This world, this age, this brain head
It has long been under his heel.

Around the throne of his cheerful crowd
- Evan evoe! - Dancing to the human race.

But our-what we - do not cry, son -
But our something on a donkey clop clop clop
Towards his death.

At a meeting with his terrible death,
At a meeting with your death and mine!
Do not cry, it will not go away from him,
Nowhere to hide it!

Music: Dmitry Warsaw
verses: Timur Kibirov