Lyrics Борис Вахнюк - Песенка влюблённого туриста
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Мне сказала радость моя:
- Выбирай – рюкзак или я! ..
Разве это жизнь, посуди,
Хоть разок со мной посиди!
Да где там:
У тебя же куча забот,
Нет не выходных, ни суббот,
Нет ни оперетт, ни кино,
Что ни день – одно и одно:
Две замученных ноги,
А на них не сапоги
И не модные штиблеты,
Просто стоптанные кеды.
Ведь турист – он брат улитки:
На спине его пожитки,
И палатка за спиной
Для туриста – дом родной!
Я, конечно, сник головой
И ушел в поход сам не свой.
До сих пор смеются друзья –
Ох и надежурил им я,
Беднягам:
Я компот два раза солил,
А лапшу водой не залил!
Но зато, вернувшись домой,
Я сказал моей дорогой:
– Пусть устали две ноги,
Пусть на них не сапоги
И не модные штиблеты,
Просто стоптанные кеды,
И пускай я брат улитки,
На спине мои пожитки
И палатка за спиной,
Но – пойдем в поход со мной!
Покажу тебе сто чудес:
Как растет сосна до небес,
как шмели выходят в полет,
Как над миром солнце встает
Жар-птицей.
Ну а если после всего
Так и не поймешь ничего...
В общем, мы теперь с ней вдвоем
По тропе туристской идем.
Рядом – две и две ноги,
А на них не сапоги,
И не шпильки, не штиблеты,
Просто стоптанные кеды.
Мы теперь как две улитки,
И палатка за спиной
Нам с подругой – дом родной!
My joy told me:
- Choose - a backpack or me! .. ..
Is it life, judge
Sit with me at least once!
Yes, where is it:
You have a bunch of worries
No weekends, no Saturday,
There is no operett or movie
Whatever day is one and one:
Two tortured legs
But they don't boots
And not fashionable pins
Just stopped sneakers.
After all, a tourist is a snail brother:
On the back of his belongings,
And a tent behind his back
For a tourist - a native house!
I, of course, my head
And he went on a campaign not his own.
Friends are still laughing -
Oh, and I hoped them,
Poor people:
I salted the compote twice,
And he didn’t fill his noodles with water!
But then, returning home,
I said my way:
- Let two legs get tired,
Let them not boots on them
And not fashionable pins
Just stopped sneakers,
And let me be a snail brother,
On the back are my belongings
And a tent behind your back
But - let's go camping with me!
I will show you a hundred miracles:
How the pine grows to heaven,
how bumblebees go into flight,
How the sun rises above the world
Firebird.
Well, if after all
You can't understand anything ...
In general, we are now together with her
We go along the Tourist path.
Nearby are two and two legs,
And they are not boots on them
And not studs, not the pins,
Just stopped sneakers.
We are now like two snails
And a tent behind his back
My friend and I are a native house!
- Choose - a backpack or me! .. ..
Is it life, judge
Sit with me at least once!
Yes, where is it:
You have a bunch of worries
No weekends, no Saturday,
There is no operett or movie
Whatever day is one and one:
Two tortured legs
But they don't boots
And not fashionable pins
Just stopped sneakers.
After all, a tourist is a snail brother:
On the back of his belongings,
And a tent behind his back
For a tourist - a native house!
I, of course, my head
And he went on a campaign not his own.
Friends are still laughing -
Oh, and I hoped them,
Poor people:
I salted the compote twice,
And he didn’t fill his noodles with water!
But then, returning home,
I said my way:
- Let two legs get tired,
Let them not boots on them
And not fashionable pins
Just stopped sneakers,
And let me be a snail brother,
On the back are my belongings
And a tent behind your back
But - let's go camping with me!
I will show you a hundred miracles:
How the pine grows to heaven,
how bumblebees go into flight,
How the sun rises above the world
Firebird.
Well, if after all
You can't understand anything ...
In general, we are now together with her
We go along the Tourist path.
Nearby are two and two legs,
And they are not boots on them
And not studs, not the pins,
Just stopped sneakers.
We are now like two snails
And a tent behind his back
My friend and I are a native house!