Lyrics Утесов Леонид - Песенка Военных Корреспондентов

From Moscow to Brest
There is no such place,
Wherever we wander in the dust,
With a "watering can" and a notebook,
And even with a machine gun
Through the fire and the cold we passed.


Without a drink, comrade,
You can not make a song,
So come on a little bread,
Let's drink to the writers,
Let's drink to the shooters,
Let's drink to the walkers under the fire.


There is, to drink, an occasion -
For the military wire,
For the U-2, for the "emk", for the success ...
Walked on foot.
As a shoulder pushed,
As we rushed before everyone.


From the winds and vodka
Our throats are hoarse.
But we will say to those who reproach:
"With our patience,
With our night,
With our turn the third year.


Where we used to be,
We were not given tanks,
The reporter will die - it does not matter ...
But on the "emka" the tornado
And with one revolver
We were the first to enter the cities.


To remember us right
Dead reporters.
Kyiv and Crimea became the grave.
Although they sometimes
There were also heroes,
They will not put a monument to them.


So let us drink to victory,
For his newspaper,
And do not live to see it, my dear,
Somebody will hear,
Will remove and write,
Someone will remember us with you.