Текст песни Монгол Шуудан - Геройский взвод

On the mountain, on the hill there is a bell-tower,
And from it a machine gun strikes the pole,
And lies on the pole with boots to the sun
With the mother of our mother, our heroic platoon.

We rubbed the earth with our fingers,
Bullets, like sparrows, splash in the dust ...
Dmitry Gorokhov and Sergeant Mokhov
These are the sparrows they took and found.

Here the elder Krupennikov tells me thinly,
To me, I took a mortuary for an honest people,
So that the bell-choked choking
This bastard cat is a split-racket.

I fixed my bayonet tightly to my rifle,
For the boot stuffed an old revolver.
& quot; Glory & quot; third degree and a brave medal
With the left, he put the sights deep into his pocket.

They gave me a cracker, they threw me a chinarik
I lost my elderly Krupennikov flask.
I tried it, I remembered my mother
Yes, he ran quickly across the field.

And on the bell-ring the son of a bitch became nervous,
He started to heal me, for sure.
Yes, you see, sorinochka-small sand grains-
In the eye hit the fierce - the hand jerked.

I dropped the rifle and fell over the pebble,
So that the vrazhina thought, as if he had hooked.
Yes, he, apparently, was shot - did not immediately believe me
And on the stone-pebble he planted long.

Yes, apparently, it was not destiny to try to find a bullet for me ...
Sam senior Krupennikov stood up, like a parade.
... At once from the bell-tower, cheerfully chirping,
The ptashets flew into the chest and threw them back.

Gorochki-prigorochki, towers-bell-shaped ...
What is assigned to whom? Whose turn is this?
The wound is not healed, the memory is not killed -
Sunny, yes pole, and a heroic platoon ..