Текст песни Бергтора - Кальян

Well in our village -
People live a fun,
Everyone grabs ing yes porridge,
House money and comfort!

Only the enemy, alas, does not sleep,
Everything somehow bears malice, mischief-maker,
To extinct village
He had introduced her to the hookah!

Peregrine late to Moscow -
Our plumber drunk again,
And rowdy hooligan -
Blame the hookah!
There is a lack of tractors,
No milk yield in cows,
And we have been waiting in the depths
Nedobyty gas!

The third day of the boyars argue
As we pick up the hookah.
In taverns weep with grief
From idleness napping Men ...
For health will be better
Do not smoke or breathe,
Can we push the clouds
The sun catch the red!

Peregrine late to Moscow -
Our plumber drunk again,
And rowdy hooligan -
Blame the hookah!
There is a lack of tractors,
No milk yield in cows,
And we have been waiting in the depths
Nedobyty gas!

Do not fly an airplane,
I do not set the piano,
And raging ocean -
Blame the hookah!
We did not smoke, brother,
We will not let you in hell
Vote and choose -
We road to paradise!