86 lines
2.3 KiB
Plaintext
86 lines
2.3 KiB
Plaintext
Dubinushka
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A lot of the songs I've heard in the home side;
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They are about joy, about the mountain sang to me,
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But one of the songs in memory hit me -
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This song is a working farm.
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Chorus:
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Oh, Dubinushka, Uhnem!
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Oh, she goes green!
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Podernem, podernem,
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Yes Uhnem!
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And from grandfathers to fathers, from fathers to sons
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This song is inherited.
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And as soon as we will be working could not stand,
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We - a cudgel, as the surest means.
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I heard this song, sang her gang,
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Lifting beam to the rafters.
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Suddenly the beam slipped and fell silent cooperative -
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Two healthy boys crushed,
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Pull a boat forest, il iron forge,
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Il in Siberia ore mining,
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With flour, with chest pain sing one song,
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About a club we remember it.
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And on the Volga River, sinking in the sand,
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We break and legs, and back,
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Straining chest and there to make it easier to pull
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We sing about his native club.
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But an hour's time, and it wakes up the people,
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Razognet it powerful back,
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And at the bar, and the king, to the priests and lords
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He will find a club stronger.
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Here is an interesting "non-canonical" version of the song:
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"Oh, vintovochkami, Uhnem"
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Many made a misery our poor people,
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Bent centuries before the bars back,
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Evil torment endured in desperation singing
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Sad song about the club.
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Oh, Dubinushka, Uhnem!
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Oh, green, she will go,
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She goes, she goes,
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Podernem, podernem Uhnem yes!
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But we waited for days, people became more intelligent
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And prostivshisya with servile skill,
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A curse Lord declared campaign,
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It does not go with a club, and a rifle.
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Chorus:
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Oh, vintovochkami, Uhnem!
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Oh, it charged itself palnet!
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Palnet herself, she palnet,
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Luck, yes buhnem charge!
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Steel bars whine bar Overseas pray:
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"Oh, give us back the land and the banks."
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The Englishman, a Frenchman, an alliance
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Send their troops and tanks.
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Englishman - cunning, but our people - sage.
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And he spits on the enemies' tricks.
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Tanks get stuck in the snow, we dashing enemy
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A bullet in the forehead of the helmet Tagged rifle.
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For bourgeois Moshny our guns are terrible,
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But more terrible our freestyle will.
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We stand for the will become your breast in combat:
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The death of us more beautiful than slavish share.
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We do not expect any mercy: il all will fall in battle,
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Ile enemies to destroy all the roots.
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Dali light Godin, my friends, all as one,
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The total power of Uhnem, podernem! |