Текст песни Александр Баль - Мы будем петь, мы будем пить...

I'm proud of my freedom of speech

F #

Until I stand at gunpoint. -

I'm not afraid to remain brave -

Hm

I'm afraid I'm bursting into tears again.

H

And in Russia it's cold again,

Em

Again questions without answer.

G

And in Russia from grief winds,

F #

And in Russia from the wind tears.

Hm F #

We will sing, we will drink

Hm

Five hundred years for each victory

Em Hm

And there will be a native land

G F #

A fluffy everyday handkerchief.

Hm F #

And how much they pay in the war -

Hm

Tell me, and I'll go,

Em Hm

To see how next to the body

G F # Hm

Buried a thick purse.

He meets the house with a hungry cat.

I will cut the night with a table lamp

And I'll sit still a little bit

With a guitar over the yard stamp.

And the mother will cry out something in a little sleep,

And I will tilt over my sleeping brother, -

Today he is still a child

Tomorrow he will become a soldier.

We will sing, we will drink

For all the victories that are behind us,

Dreaming of giving women

Bouquets of words, bouquets of roses ...

And my mother, having cried her eyes,

In powerlessness he spreads his hands,

So it's winter in Russia,

So it's cold in Russia.

In the knapsack is a razor and tobacco ...

"Yes, you're already quite a man.

Only I would not smoke on an empty stomach "-

Saying goodbye, the mother asked her son.

"Give, I will embrace you, son! -

Do not forget me, old woman. " -

Downy gentle handkerchief

Absorbs a new separation.

We will sing, we will drink

Five hundred years for every victory.

And there will be a native land

A fluffy everyday handkerchief.

"Oh, mother, bake pancakes,

When I'm home from the war ...

How sweet is this air to drink -

Another sip, another sip. "

They will put on the form, tonsure,

Prishesh loops and shoulder straps.

Here, you are a soldier. But something suddenly

Among the war will smell the house,

And something suddenly will save you

From an exploding grenade,

And the commander will "pour" you,

And you will sing "Aty-bata! .."

We will sing, we will drink

And fall into the old trenches,

It's easy to scold, hard to love,

Draw the targets on the temples.

And tomorrow they will say: "Under the gun" -

And we will substitute our necks.

And women will wear

We were killed, on our hands.

We will sing, we will drink

Five hundred years for each victory

And there will be a native land

A fluffy everyday handkerchief.

And how much they pay in the war -

Tell me, and I'll go,

To see how next to the body

Buried a thick purse.