| On the right, the general is galloping on a bay mare
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| On the left, the commissar is driving in a car,
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| And in the middle, right between them
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| Rides, rides a young guy on a railcar.
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| A saber plays in his right hand
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| In the left handle, the brush dissects the air
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| Hy, and behind the back is a distant banner
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| Rides rides well done sings a song
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| Oh my black banner
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| Eh, my saber is curved
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| Yes, for the native side
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| Yes, for my beloved wife
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| I went to fight with enemies
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| On the right, with a saber, bald in half
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| On the left with a tassel in the eye so as not to be sewn,
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| And he slowly turned aside
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| In an open field you will not find a serviceman ran away
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| And he took with him a saber and a banner,
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| And under the dashing banner a flock gathered
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| Every day is more terrible than a year
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| They roam, they roam the steppe, they sing a song
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| Oh our black banner
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| Oh, who is not with us will be lost
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| Yes, for the native side
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| Yes, for Russia, for the country
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| We went to fight with enemies
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| And the enemies of which the year does not decrease,
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| And the people sit and wait, who will take it, they don’t know
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| Either the father rules or Satan
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| And who now at the expense everyone guesses
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| And a long time ago the Bolshevik rotted in a ditch,
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| And he does not shake a blind man on a pedestal
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| Wings spreads black chaos
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| Wanders wanders the country like a wolf howls
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| Oh our black banner
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| Oh, get lost with us
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| Yes for yesterday's conversation
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| For today's shame
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| Yes, for eternal showdown with enemies |