Великая Отечественная... - Колоколенка
текст песни

Bell
L. Sergeev

On the mountain, on a tip,
There is a bell.
And from her to the pole
The machine gun beats.
And lies in the pole,
Boots to the sun,
With a member of a mother
Our heroic platoon.

We paw the earth
Screwed fingers,
Bullets like sparrow
Splash in dust.
Mitria Gorokhov
Yes, sergeant Mukhov
These are the sparrows
They took it and found.

Here is the elder of the cereal
He tells me thinly
So that I accept the death
For an honest people,
To be on the bell
He choked with a bloodstream
The milestock is prostrate
This bitch is a cat.

I'm to my rifle
The bayonet was adjusted,
I put it for the boot
Old Nagan,
"Glory ..." of the third degree,
Yes, the medal is brave
I put the side of the side with the left
Deep in the pocket.

They gave me a cracker
They threw me a chinarik
I am the elder of the cereal
I put it on the flask
I tried it
I remembered my mother's mother
And on the field even
He ran quickly.

And on the bell
Sukin Cat was nervous,
He began to aim me
To surely,
Yes, see a snorish
Small grain of sand
Fierce fell into the eye,
A hand jerked.

Well, I dropped the rifle,
Yes, fell by the pebble,
To think the enemy
As if hooked.
Yes, he, you see, was shot
I did not believe me right away,
And on the stone-pebble
He planted long.

Yes, it was not fate that was not fate
Shuffle the bullets to me.
The elder of the cerebells himself
I got up like a parade ...
Immediately from the bell,
Chirika is fun
Ptashechki flew into the chest,
Threw back ...

I shouted without a voice
Glass the earthy bitter,
I ran without thinking
In the hill, straight.
I burned me and tormented me
Inevitable anger,
Methyl in a bell
My hungry bayonet.

Tricks-horsemen,
Tower, bells ...
What is assigned to anyone
Whose now is it.
The wound is not enormous ...
Memory is not killed
Sunny and Polyushko,
Yes, a heroic platoon.