Текст песни Серебряная Свадьба - Смерть поэта

The naphthalene overcoat,
Slightly tipsy.
I went poet - almost a boy,
About forty years.

There was a supply of drinks wine,
There was enthusiasm in his chest.
But the death on the legs on chicken
Already I rode behind.

Dap-poskoku,
Dap-poskoku,
Dap-poskoku,
Already I rode behind.

I went poet slave of honor,
Ladies buttercups gave,
Bought sausages in the test,
In French speaking.

Well, death is looked,
Show interest,
It measures the velocity of the body,
Width Length and weight

Dap-poskoku,
Dap-poskoku,
Dap-poskoku,
Length and width w.

Death charted bird foot
Evil marks on the floor.
A poet went for cloth
And Pryshyb her in the corner.

Sadly finals
Tragically end.
He went, he rocked
From a bottle of wine each ...