Текст песни Леонид Утёсов - С Одесского кичмана

From Odessa kichman
Two urkans were running,
Two Urkans fled secretly.
Under the ** raspberry
They stopped.
They stopped to rest.

- Comrade, comrade,
My wounds hurt
My wounds hurt like a lump.
One heals
Another breaks up
And the third sat at the bokeh.

Comrade, comrade,
Tell my mom
That her son died at the post
And with a sword in his hand
And with a screw in another,
With a merry song on my lip.

Comrade little-sick,
Bury my body
Bury my body in a lump
And with a sword in his hand
And with a screw in another,
With a merry song on my lip.

What were we fighting for
what we fought for.
Why did we shed our blood?
They feast there,
They walk there,
And we give them sons.