Oy zacvyla cheremcha, zacvyla yarym cvitom,
Tam prashchaveya, oy, strilec' sichovyi z bilym svitom.

Tam prashchaveya, oy, strilec' sichovyi z slezonkamy,
Shcho ne bude komu vykopaty yomu yamy.

Shcho ne bude trunvy tysovoyi zhotovyty,
Budut' tilo chorne hayvoronnya roznosyty.

A cheremcha tuyu skarhu tychu zrozumila,
Ta y vna toho strilcya sichovoho pozalila:

"Spy z ty preyspokiyyo, strilnyku sichovyi, virnyi synu,
Oy ya z tebe chesno pochovayu, yak dytynu".

Rano-vranci pryishly yeho druzi uhledity,
A za nichku strilcya sichovoho vkryly cvity.