Текст песни Петлюра - Гитара семиструнная

Not the ringing guitar -string ,
   And the ringing dubacheskih keys
   Grill and drank at will,
   To see his mother .
    
   Is my mother did not know ,
   His darling son ?
   As a teenager, I accompanied you ,
   And will have to meet the old man.
    
   No ground buried I was not,
   Just to the land I was friends .
   Camp flour and convoys ,
   Many , mother, grief experienced .
    
   Our camp will raise the alarm ,
   On foot dressed shackles .
   And the guys go on the roads
   Our immense hand .
    
   So pour the same mother , bitter vodka
   Vodka I zalyu his sorrow ,
   The camp will forget flour
   And about the song that I sing.
   The camp will forget flour
   And about the song that I sing.