Сумецкая

```oh, who's riding there? who's riding there? who's riding, take a look?
on a lame horse, these are our jockeys
jockeys, a funny bunch, riding home from the fair
dressed up, undressed, some with a broken head

play me such a funny jockey
so my belly doesn't hurt, for a sinner like me
play me one, so my legs twitch
so that every snob doesn't jump around us

oh, to break, to break, to break is what I want
to tell the truth and to fight is what I want
whose lad is showing off his knees there
he wouldn't have enough of a birch stick

we were gathering for a stroll, dad gave a push
mom whispered in my ear: don't get drunk, you fool
I was born desperate and don't value anything
if my head is chopped off, I'll tie a log

I'm breaking, bending, I'll say I'm not well
bring me half a liter and no need for doctors
we saw the one in the grave who called us drunkards
we drank on our own money, no one served us

they beat me, stabbed me, all in plain sight
guessed by the shoulder, I stand and laugh
oh, not everything is worth crying over, oh, not everything makes me sad
give me a little time to have fun

my friend, the Russian braids hung below the belt
oh, we fought over those Russian braids, my comrade and I
oh, my comrade, damn, why are you so angry
angry to the dark forest, to the cursed little house

we played, we fought, now we have to sit down
behind the iron bars, to gaze freely
the Petrograd prison, with a turn of the ladder
my comrade and I sat, singing songs

you play, I'll sing, life won't hurt as much
let people judge us, it'll be more fun to sit```