Текст песни Серебряная свадьба - Смерть поэта

In naphthalene overcoat,
Slightly tipsy.
Went poet - almost a boy,
About forty years.

Had a stock of drinks wine,
Was the enthusiasm in his chest.
But the death on their feet in chicken
Much rode behind.

Dap-poskoku,
Dap-poskoku,
Dap-poskoku,
Much rode behind.

Went poet slave of honor,
Ladies gave buttercups,
Bought sausages in the test,
French said.

Well, death is looked,
Showed interest,
Measured the velocity of the body,
Width length and weight

Dap-poskoku,
Dap-poskoku,
Dap-poskoku,
Length and width w.

Death charted bird foot
Evil marks on the floor.
A poet went for cloth
And Pryshyb her in the corner.

Sadly finals
Tragically end.
He went to his pitching
Bottle of wine each ...