62 lines
1.3 KiB
Plaintext
62 lines
1.3 KiB
Plaintext
Hit the sky, planes
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Throw think the generals,
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About march on Moscow:
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From the Caucasus to Lake Baikal
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Spaced you a piece!
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Hit the sky, airplanes,
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Croy, the soldiers, all the bayonets!
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Scribbling machine guns,
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Go to fight the Bolsheviks.
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For us to go no Bourget,
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All generals - trumpet!
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Horse Councils
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Can chopped down the heck!
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Hit the sky, airplanes,
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Croy, the soldiers, all the bayonets!
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Scribbling machine guns,
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Go to fight the Bolsheviks.
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Flamethrower, sailor,
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Gunner and sapper -
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Red Army called
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And it gives the enemy resistance.
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Hit the sky, airplanes,
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Croy, the soldiers, all the bayonets!
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Scribbling machine guns,
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Go to fight the Bolsheviks.
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We shall cope with any bedoyu,
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All enemies scatter in the smoke.
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We are not an inch of their land
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No one will not give!
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Hit the sky, airplanes,
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Croy, the soldiers, all the bayonets!
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Scribbling machine guns,
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Go to fight the Bolsheviks.
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Our army - made of steel,
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Our song is simple:
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Dear Comrade Stalin!
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Do not come no one from the post!
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Hit the sky, airplanes,
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Croy, the soldiers, all the bayonets!
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Scribbling machine guns,
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Go to fight the Bolsheviks.
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Our power is not RUINED
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On land and on the seas.
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We are with you, Voroshilov,
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We win all battles!
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Bolshevik - is not just a word:
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This is - the title of a fighter.
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We are always ready to fight,
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We will not give up till the end! 1934 |