Текст песни Рабоче-крестьянский Д.Ж.А.З - Дон-батюшка

Dragged track loop
And he smelled a strange land breeze.
Gone grizzled sergeant
Fifty in the last campaign.
Chorus
Oh, you don! Oh Father!
You mourners his sons!
Ah crude bit of land - mother!
Well so early are you waiting for the Cossacks!
Oh, you don! Oh Father!
You mourners his sons!
Ah crude bit of land - mother!
Well so early are you waiting for the Cossacks!
He led us to the path razvilochke.
There is a foreign land, but here - to die.
And he said, grizzled sergeant;
Nick what we throw Russia!
Chorus.
Along the road of separation color
So sad clover blossoms.
And he, restless, it seems;
It is fifty farmsteads.