Текст песни А.Витаков - Емеля

EMELYA
Fair - trays, rows.
Measure, try - I do not want!
Oil, beard polish,
Dresses, bagels. But, choo!
Parting people.
Falls silent. Take a look!
The barefoot buffoon is coming;
Creak of a sacred snow.
“Hey hey, peas in your mouth,
Are you there, Emelya? ”
The buffoon responds:
“All roads to the earth.
What I see: I say.
I say that I know.
Flock of goats through the nostril
I miss it at once.
Do not look with your mouth open
That I go patched.
I blow my nose
On the hem noble ... "

“Oh, Emelya, brave you!
The whip is nicer than bread.
Drop, come on, ports -
Let the dust go to heaven! ”
On the back of the batogs
Got plums
But Emelya the buffoon
The guy is not weak.
How many bruises he knew
What July is the ears of corn.
Still teasing priests
He will never give up.
Suddenly the bell struck. The ringer rushed.
Frost ran over the skin.
The smoky gloom hung over Poleb.
Fire rose over the watchmen.
Tatars! Five thousand! Hops flew out instantly.
The air became glass from the rumble.
Glittering Golden Hutangu Degel
On a temnik with a wide-bosom
Five thousand sheloms. Again.
Nine-Tailed Glory.
Here is a tarry tarry palm raised,
And the obedient lava arose.
“Hey, in the city, open the gate to the guest.
You don’t see, the horses were tortured.
For a tribute, one hundred young men, one hundred girls come on,
Woz protein. And mine will not touch you! ”
Posadnik: “What to do? Pay - leaves!
There will be neither death nor stench.
Boyars, what do you say? ” “We are like a people!
But people don’t need fires! ”
He squeezed a thousand beard. A look is on the stomach.
Fifty squads of all.
Yes, ratty half a thousand. “And I, as a people.
No one is willing to pour blood! ”
There is a commotion in the hallway
Did it happen
To be the first buffoon
Came out on a visor.
Shouted: “Hari - one shame.
Know with dung cereal.
Right now Emelya, son of a bitch,
The performance will dance! ”
He pulled the bucket.
Pours tar on the shoulders.
I threw a copper penny to the sun.
He looked farther.
On three accounts becoming gray,
Chirkanul chair.
And before the eyes of the horde
The flame danced.

How they fought! - No one could remember after.
For the elbow, for the span and for the stone.
East returned to nothing on the steppe
Tails confused banner.
Two centuries later at the Mongol bonfires
There was a tale that in a snowy region
A gray-haired buffoon enters the wall
And the sun is drinking a bucket.