Текст песни ПАН ПУПЕЦ' - Мольфар

His name, familiar to you, it Molfar,
Hands cloud, hands clouds dispersed.
It is his daughter, he did not give his daughter,
Its all played but did not know about it Molfar.

Smith horseshoe, blacksmith horseshoe is not bound,
Priests - he gathered his flock not.
And each of you would not stand in front of her.
Neither young, nor old are not,

He died of thunder, and are of a sharp knife,
Molfar laughs Molfar dancing on graves.
And all who voluptuous, Don people were nice,
They died in their arms.

Those who kohalys, bathed in sin,
It embodies the greatest fear.
For ruled in the woods!
Dancing on graves!