Ростислав Чебыкин - История одного колхоза
текст песни

And somehow, I remember, to 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 Earth's satellites,
Not about sinuses and fractions,
And about how at dawn
Wakes up in the hole
A terrible beast nicknamed Hobbit.

Then I began to dream:
It would be nice to become a gnome
And plow on the collective farm in the mountain.
Brother for Nazgul will go
And the wife, like an elf, sings,
Well, a mother -in -law is just a throat!
Suddenly from the cellar to the yard
Taking an ax with one hand,
And squeezing the other pitchfork
Old Nikanor came out,
Says: “I am Feanor,
Give Silmaril! "

Here it began!
The entire collective farm was divided:
Who is for the dark, some for the bright ones.
On the same night some kind of bastard
Wrote "Baruk Kazad"
At the gates of the village council.
The lake stood on end:
There is an omnipotence ring
Pioneers are looking together.
It was decided to vote
To rename
Our collective farm in the Testament Era.

Agron between the fields
He wants instead of poplars
Plant talperions.
We are talking about arund
Instead of Mata Sindarin -
There are such idioms!
They took Lenin a portrait,
Signed "Elbet"
And let him pray!
Only the question is worried:
Since the collective farm inserted this way
What is happening in the city?