Lyrics Филигон - Толкиенисты в колхозе

Once, I remember, in our collective farm
Someone brought from the city
Many interesting books.
And one of them was
We are especially sweet,
The professor wrote it.
Not about the formulas of the wonderful,
Not about the companions of the earth,
Not about sinuses and fractions,
And about how at dawn
Wakes up in the hole
A terrible beast named hobbit.

So I began to dream:
It would be nice to become a gnome
And plow on the collective farm mountain.
Brother for the hobbit will come down,
A wife, like an elf, sings,
Well, my mother-in-law - just Gollum.
Suddenly from the cellar to the yard,
Taking one with an ax,
And the other, clutching a pitchfork,
Old Nikanor came out,
He says: "I'm Feanor,
Give the sylmarilles! "

Here it began!
The entire collective farm was divided -
Who is for the dark, who for the light.
The same night, some bastard
I wrote "Uruk kazad!"
At the gate of the village Soviet.
The lake stood on end -
There's an omnipotence ring
The pioneers are searching for each other.
It was decided to vote,
To rename
Our collective farm in the "Covenants Eru".

Agronomist among the fields
Wants instead of poplars
Plant the telperion.
We say on the Quenya,
Instead of Mata - Sindarin:
There such idioms!
They took Lenin's portrait,
Signed: "Elberet"
And let him pray!
Only the question disturbs:
If so, the kolkhoz planted,
What is happening in the city?