Михаил Жванецкий - Как шутили в Одессе
текст песни

A group of people with mournful faces and musical instruments. Ahead Brigadier - conductor. Call. Arrives tenants.
Brigadier (politely lifts his hat): Ai-I-Yai, I already talked. So grief!
Luxury: What Mountain?
Brigadier: Do you have a funeral?
Village: funeral?
Brigadier: Richelevskaya Six, Apartment Seven?
Tenant: yes.
Brigadier: Well?
Zhiltsy: What?
Brigadier: Will we bury?
Village: who?
Brigadier: What does "whom" mean? Who should better know, I or you? Well, do not make a fool, take it out.
Village: Who?
Brigadier: I have people. Orchestra. Fifteen people of living people. They can kill, slaughter anyone who will not lead it right now. Manya, please.
Thick man, in socks and men's shoes, hit the plates and looked at the clock.
Zhiltsy: a minute, who sent you here?
Brigadier: How do I know from? Maybe you. What, I have to remember everyone?
From the team flies furious trombone.
Trombone: Misha, there will be anything, or we will smash this halabud to smire in half. I am disabled, you know.
Brigadier: Zhora, do not get yourself. People have a big grief, they want to bargain. Call your price, let's talk like cultural people. You have not heard our sound yet.
Village: I imagine.
Brigadier: Second. You will hear our sound - you will remove the last shirt. These people feel someone else's grief, like their own.
Village: I imagine perfectly.
Brigadier: Stand there and listen here. Aunt Manya, I ask the signal to build. Fat man hit the plates and looked at the clock.
Brigadier (walked by a cavalry step): Konstantin, fasten, hide your cheapent tattoo with these illiterate expressions. You all write something new. If you do not bring it, I take you away from work. Fedor Grigorievich, you, though a conservatory student, perhaps you are even culturally - you know the notes, but this cowboy will humiliate you. With us, thank God, there is work - the street movement grows. We only spent fifteen people in July.
Now you, mana. What you boil there for lunch, I'm not interested, but it smells with fried fish every day. Go to vegetables or we say goodbye. I ask the sad signal.
(The orchestra plays a fantasy in which the funeral march is safely guessed).
The tenant (applauds): Thank you very much, enough. But all this is in vain. Probably someone joked.
Brigadier: Maybe, but it does not concern us. I shot fifteen with work. I do not give young man to finish the conservatory. Madame Zborovskaya threw the economy on the young bandit, so that he was healthy. So you want me to understand the jokes? Calculate, then we laugh all together.
From the group of musicians crashed trombone.
Trombone: Misha, what do you kill with him? Let's give my head and play your own, burn it with fire!
Brigadier: Zhora, do not get yourself. You have not yet served for the fact, why are you nervous again?
Area: How much should it be buried?
Brigadier: With honors?
Tenant: yes.
Brigadier: not in a hurry?
Tenant: Yes.
Brigadier: Five on face.
Liberty: and without dead man?
Brigadier: Treshka, although it is humiliating.
Village: Good, agreed. Play, just sing:
In memory of Sigismund Lazarevich and his sister from Chisinau.
(Musicians on the mana signal begin to play and sing:
"Startless, untimely ... Who do you leave us? You are there, and we are here. We are here, and you are there." Behind the scenes of screams, crying someone suffered).
Brigadier (cheerful): Here you and the dead! Tenant. No, it's just that. This is my neighbor Sigismund Lazarevich. He had a birthday today.