Lots of work, little time
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So everything is enough, so everything is enough!
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Tell me, Zhorik, where is our Fedya?
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We are going fishing today.
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Fedya is already preparing gear smartly,
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And Zhorka is the master of any booze,
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And I'm in the process of this preparation
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I'll check out the equipment.
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With Fedyunya they loaded everything into a wheelbarrow,
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Tired even smoked.
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We are sitting, waiting for Zhorka, he came
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With a full trailer - got crazy!
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He brought a goat there from the market
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And seven boxes of edibles.
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Let's throw a holiday - barbecue, ushitsa,
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Let's have a little bite so as not to get drunk.
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That's the thing - fishing, picnic!
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Throw, brother, belongings in a backpack,
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And go fishing, go to the river, go to the fire, go fishing!
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That's the thing - fishing, picnic!
|
Throw, brother, belongings in a backpack,
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And go fishing, go to the river, go to the fire, go fishing!
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The wind, like a drunken one, walks in the forest,
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The rain came and poured,
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We sit in a tent and blow vodka,
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All for fishing, yes for the weather.
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By morning it will disperse, by morning it will dispel.
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The sky will turn pink soon.
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We didn't get bored, we didn't hurry,
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But they pumped up and passed out!
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Suddenly, in the middle of the night, someone wets us,
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Duby and strongly, by the way,
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It's good to scratch bruises and bumps,
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Let's evacuate, brothers!
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Fedka, awake, grabs a gun,
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Shooting suddenly starts
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Russian without a fight, don't give up!
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Yes, and not Russian - when he gets drunk!
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That's the thing - fishing, picnic!
|
Throw, brother, belongings in a backpack,
|
And go fishing, go to the river, go to the fire, go fishing!
|
That's the thing - fishing, picnic!
|
Throw, brother, belongings in a backpack,
|
And go fishing, go to the river, go to the fire, go fishing!
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Oh, it's a pity they didn't capture the rocket launchers!
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From all calibers, they hit blindly.
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Yes, we would only break through to the jeep!
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And you can stay there for a week.
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Zhorka sensibly threw a grenade,
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No one else saw the tent.
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I gave a couple of volleys from the Beretta,
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It's dark here for something, here's to you!
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They fought back, it's already dawning,
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And who, with a hangover, understands what?
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Dry land was dumped on us by the wind,
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Nearly ruined all the fishing!
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“Where is our goat?!” Zhorka suddenly remembered.
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He is all on edge, in the hands of a double-barreled shotgun.
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On the battlefield after the bombing
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The horns and legs remained lying.
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That's the thing - fishing, picnic!
|
Throw, brother, belongings in a backpack,
|
And go fishing, go to the river, go to the fire, go fishing!
|
That's the thing - fishing, picnic!
|
Throw, brother, belongings in a backpack,
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And to go fishing, to the river, to the fire, to go fishing. |