neat postman


Food, food, food, food,
Food, handing out letters.
Without moving from the bike,
I smile all sing:

Chorus:
Do not miss, get,
Who is tired of waiting, who is in love.
Letters gentle, native,
Business, custom-made
All hands Haritosha,
Neat postman.

I'm taking love and joy,
And the breath of spring,
From Moscow and Leningrad,
And from across the country.

There are envelopes of different suits.
And newspaper sheets.
In this bag of laughter and happiness,
And hopes and dreams.

Chorus.

Food, food, food, food,
Food, handing out letters.
Without moving from the bike,
I smile all sing:

Chorus.
1939