A ponyze ozera
Stoyit lypa zelena,
A na tiy lypi, na tiy zeleniy
Try ptashkove spivayut.

Ne byly to ptashkove,
Ale kavalirove,
Namovlyayut sya do yednoy divchyny,
Kotromu sya dostane.

Yeden hvaryt: to moye.
Druhyi hvaryt: yak boh dast.
A tret'omu sya serdenko kraye,
Kotromu sya dostane.

A v tiy noviy komori
Stoyit luzko zelene.
Oy loze, loze, krasne – zelene,
Chto na tobi spav bude?

Oy yak bude staryi spav,
Day mu, boze, by ne vstav;
A yak molodyi, krasnoy urody,
By-s mu, boze, zdrav’ya dav!