Текст песни Великая Отечественная... - Колоколенка

Bell
                                        L. Sergeev

On the mountain, on the hill,
Worth a bell
And from her a little pole
Pounding a machine gun.
And lies on the pole
Boots to the sun
With a bastard mother
Our heroic platoon.

We paw the earth
Fingered fingers
Bullets like sparrows
Splashing in the dust.
Mitria Gorokhov
Yes Sergeant Mokhov
These are the little sparrows
Took yes found.

Here the eldest Krupennikov
Tells me thinly
So that I accept the death bomber
For honest people
To the bell
Drowned in blood
Rastaka-razetaki
This bitch cat.

I'm to my rifle
Tight bayonet
For a boot thrust
Old Nagan
"Glory ..." of the third degree,
Yes brave medal
On the left I put the decks
Deep in your pocket.

They gave me a cracker,
They threw me a plane sign,
I am the eldest Krupennikov
He flipped a flask,
I tried it
I remembered my mother,
And across the field
I quickly ran.

And on the bell
The bitch cat got nervous
He began to heal me
For sure
Yes, see the mote
Small grit
I got into the eye of a fierce
A hand twitched.

Well, I dropped the rifle,
Yes fell over a pebble
So that the enemy would think
As if hooked.
Yes, he was apparently shot,
Didn’t believe me right away
And stone by stone
Long planted.

Yes, apparently it was not fate
Try me a bullet.
The eldest Krupennikov himself
Got up like a parade ...
Immediately from the bell
Having fun tweeting
Little birds flew into the chest
Thrown back ...

I screamed without a voice
Gnawed at the bitter earth,
I ran without thinking
Up the hill, straight.
Burned me and tormented me
Malice is inevitable
Meth the bell
My hungry bayonet.

Little peas,
Towers, bells ...
What is assigned to whom
Whose turn is now.
The wound is not healed ...
The memory is not dead
The sun and the little pole
Yes, a heroic platoon.