Текст песни А. Козлов и А. Макаревич - С одесского кичмана

From Odessa Kichmay
Plucked two Urkal,
Plucked two Urkal on a long journey -
In the Princely raspberries they stopped,
They stopped to rest.

& Quot; Comrade, comrade, my wounds still hurt,
My wounds still hurt in clumps -
Odnaya heals
Other naryvaet,
And the third was opened in the bokeh. & Quot;

Comrade, Comrade, Comrade maloholnye,
What are we shed our blood?
For colored sponges below the knee skirts,
For this rasproklyatuyu love.

Comrade, comrade, did you tell my mom,
With her son perished in the post
With a rifle in his hand and a sword in the other,
With a smile on uste fun.

& Quot; Comrade, comrade, my wounds still hurt,
My wounds still hurt in clumps -
Odnaya heals
Other naryvaet,
And the third was opened in the bokeh. & Quot;