| Pigeons flew up, as if from a plague
|
| We ran like boys. It was a long time ago, it seemed to us - tin,
|
| But the boys so wanted to climb into the neighboring yard
|
| It was a lot of fun, only this time
|
| We ran into thieves, surrounded us
|
| I began to say goodbye to life, I was confused in an instant
|
| And then my father heard a cry from the window
|
| Hit first, boy! |
| Hit first always!
|
| Miss a beat and there will be trouble
|
| For mother, for girlfriends, for friends, for father
|
| Strike first, strike first, strike first, boy!
|
| Bosyatsky days rushed by, like ice in spring
|
| Under your window I wandered all night long
|
| There were a lot of girls, walk yourself, dance,
|
| But so I wanted to steal your first kiss
|
| In the park under the birches, hugging you with my hand
|
| Caught three guys sassy, drunken look
|
| They asked me to smoke without looking up
|
| In my father's head, the order was again remembered
|
| Hit first, boy! |
| Hit first always!
|
| Miss a beat and there will be trouble
|
| For mother, for girlfriends, for friends, for father
|
| Strike first, strike first, strike first, boy!
|
| The years have flown by like fires of smoke
|
| My grown-up son is walking in the yard |
| Hit first, my boy, always take the hit
|
| To be called with pride - boy!
|
| Hit first boy...
|
| Hit first, boy! |
| Hit first always!
|
| Miss a beat and there will be trouble
|
| For mother, for girlfriends, for friends, for father
|
| Strike first, strike first, strike first, boy! |