Текст песни Красивая песня - под гитару

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Am Dm
That's all dear friend we are free with you
G C
we are free with you for ever
Am Dm
flew a black bird over my head
E Am
I do not have a return from there

I was born and raised in a fisherman's family
from the family of that trace does not remain
though my dear mother loved me
but the fate of me and the hell went to

Since my childhood I did not like farm labor
did not plow did not tailor did not sow
And with a cheerful punks under the name of a brother
I started to wander about in a shipwreck

Eh and the night was, even though the night had gouged out the eye
the thief risks as usual in practice
We worked but not more than an hour
And they returned like wolves with prey

And in the morning walked baldela punks
and the accordion poured out
many girls were in that evening then
and one of whom fell in love

To have a beautiful love you need money to have
I thought about it brothers
and then I went to steal day and night
so as to get closer to your beloved one

Stole day and night as a princess dressed
threw the grandmother on the left to the right
but on one of the nights I flew deafly
and from that my drama started

Here comes to us trouble open the gates
I scream to her beauty before the meeting
Zdrastvuy stone house mother old prison
and I shouted my freedom before the meeting

It was my friend at the end of September
The crazy weather took place
I escaped from prison under the cover of rain
and with joy shouted freedom

long wandered all evening to and fro
and did not believe that I was free
I am an old man pointed her house
knocked on familiar doors

she did not boldly come to my doorstep
she wears a dress with Chinese silk
instead of a children's notebook like five years ago
she is holding an infant

You who you what she tells me
yes, you did not recognize me
remember how half a year ago
you are a fool of one caress

they told me that you were killed when you ran away.
and I shared happiness with the other
but for these five and a half years
I completely forgot you

Here in me the Chechen blood boiled up
the knife thrust into her like a batter
and not to hear the baby cry any more
retired from the accursed place

that your head bent so low
or you are still dreaming of youth
drink champagne friend the night ahead
and not where we are in a hurry