| The winners fell into a dream
|
| And they put up guards.
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| But even the sentinels want to sleep, and the rest is tryn-grass!
|
| And then we, the marauders, enter the conquered city,
|
| And we dictate the terms
|
| And we lay claim!
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| Hear the march of the marauders!
|
| (Boots creak on gravel!)
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| Praise us marauders
|
| And cheerful your army!
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| Glory! |
| Glory! |
| Glory to us!
|
| The surviving inhabitants hurry to hide in holes like mice.
|
| Girls dress up as old women
|
| And they are waiting for the blessed darkness.
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| But they won't deceive us
|
| Because we are marauders
|
| And while the winners are sleeping, we are the masters in the city!
|
| Hear the march of the marauders!..
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| Tear doors off their hinges,
|
| Pull carpets and curtains
|
| Everything will come in handy - and money, and booze, and grub!
|
| Ah, what fun we looters are walking,
|
| Oh, what weighty words we come up with!
|
| Hear the march of the marauders!..
|
| Sweet sleep winners.
|
| They dream of golden mountains,
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| They dream of the banner of Victory, pockmarked with torn holes.
|
| And we have no time to sleep,
|
| Because we are marauders.
|
| But crazy with fear,
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| We are applauded by the world!
|
| Hear the march of the marauders!..
|
| And this is not the main thing.
|
| You didn't see the main thing.
|
| There will be morning and the sun in festive clouds.
|
| The bugler will blow the wake-up call.
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| The winners will shake off the dream
|
| And they will see that they do not have the banner of Victory,
|
| and in our hands!
|
| Listen to the march... March...
|
| And there's nothing to argue about.
|
| Empty fun - disputes.
|
| When passions subside and swearing smoke disperses,
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| Historians will figure out which of us are marauders,
|
| And we will tell them!
|
| And we will enlighten them!
|
| Listen to the march of the winners!
|
| Orchestras are playing marches over the abyss of the parade ground.
|
| Girls waving flowers.
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| The building is unbreakable and straight.
|
| And it turned out - everything is in order!
|
| And so, everything is as it should -
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| You marauders, a bullet!
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| And girls and marches - to us!
|
| Listen to the march of the winners!
|
| (The creak of boots on gravel).
|
| Praise us, the winners,
|
| And our great army!
|
| Glory! |
| Glory! |
| Glory to us!.. |