| A.D. Zvezdin-Northern in the 60s-70s. | 
| Alyosha fried on the button accordion, | 
| Noisy-rattled dishes shalman, | 
| In tobacco smoke, in gloomy fog, | 
| The old Odessa charlatan sang a song: | 
| - Come on, look there, in the corner, | 
| Where is the chicken kemarit on the floor | 
| And screens in the corners | 
| They sing thieves' songs here and there. | 
| Alyosha, sha! | 
| Take a semitone lower | 
| Throw the arap to refuel. | 
| Eh, mother! | 
| Don't move closer, do you hear? | 
| Throw Odessa-mother to remember, | 
| Bitch, bitch, bastard ... | 
| Pop the censer censer | 
| And something quietly said: | 
| - Comrades, I am for the Council! | 
| And all the shirmagans answered him: | 
| Patlaty, sha! | 
| Take a semitone lower | 
| Throw the arap to refuel. | 
| Eh, mother! | 
| Don't move closer, do you hear? | 
| Throw Odessa-mother to remember, | 
| Bitch, bitch, bastard ... | 
| Once I wandered along the Longeron, | 
| Only chopping at full speed, | 
| And suddenly a drunken lad comes up to me: | 
| “Pay, dear, on account. | 
| Guys, sha! | 
| Take a semitone lower | 
| Throw the arap to refuel. | 
| Eh, mother! | 
| Don't move closer, do you hear? | 
| Throw Odessa-mother to remember, | 
| Bitch, bitch, bastard ... |