Sonce nyzenko, vechir blyzenko,
Charivno svityt' vze misyachenko.

Vze svityt' misyac' i yasni zori,
Mov mak, rozsilys' na neboskloni.

Mov mak, rozsilys' i ne zhasayut',
Strilci sichovi u biy rushayut'.

Yak pryishlo svyato Prechystoy Divy,
Strilci rozklaly vsi skorostrily.

Vze schodyt' sonce pomiz horamy,
Vze surmy surmlyat' pomiz strilcyamy.

– Dmytre Vitovs'kyi, shcho ty hadayesh,
Shcho ty polyakiv u L'viv puskayesh?!

Dmytro Vitovs'kyi v litak sidaye
I do Antanty vin vid’yizdzaye.

Zvidty vertaye, v letu vin hyne
I ne dovozyt', shcho pryznachyly.

A vklyatyi voroh zibrav vsi syly,
Prosyak z Paryza klyati halery.

Yak pryishlo svyato Prechystoy Maty,
Strilci pochaly za Zbruch stupaty.