Lyrics Булат Окуджава - Песенка старого шарманщика

The quack organ,
how sweet you sing!
The quack organ,
where are you calling me?
I walk barely -
an inch in five minutes.
How to reach the goal
when the boots are tight?
Work is work,
there is always work.
Only sweat would be enough
for all my years.
Payback for mistakes -
she's also work.
A smile would be enough
when they beat me in the ribs.
Work is work...