Текст песни Борис Гмыря - Песня ямщика

Music Alexander Gurilev
Words of Konstantin Bakhturin

Al again not see the former red lobe?
I myself am not my soul, dry, as in captivity.
And I have been deleted. With Ukhala Troika
I will rush and sleep with a song in a brow.

We will not be twisted, only a mitten -
And in stumps, the hills are rushing a bird.
Neither with a tear, nor with longing well done knew
Came, yes walked ... So I got up!

I can't turn around, as it should;
Crosscrow apart, well, at least throw it - Eca Dosaard.
At night, the day about one bit I think,
All over it, I suffer from my paw!

1840.