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