Текст песни Забузоры - На коне вороном

On a black horse
Traveled guerrillas
Sabre sharp with him ,
Two grenades , a revolver .
He held his horse ,
He stretched out his hand ,
The horse whinnied zealous ,
I beat the ground with his foot.
Two hands , like a castle
Squeezed for a moment :
" Good-bye , my son ! -
He said the old man
I would have gone :
The blood does not warm me,
Swords are no acute
And the second horse .
About me not grieve ,
How else will live ,
Paul osminnika Rye
Without you remove . "
Son pulled a reason ,
Sam waved his cap
And I went there ,
Chip was audible hum.
The horse raced arrow
Behind him vilasya dust
That young rider
In the Red hurry.