Tam na horonci dvi panyanonci lon braly.
A popid horu sichovi strilci mandzaly.

– Dopomozy, Boh, lyubym divchatam lon braty.
Chy dozvolyte na ciy nyvonci spochyty?

– Oy, chomu z by ni, strilchyky ridni, vam sisty.
Shche y rozkazete pro nashych bratchykiv visti.

– Oy, visti vashi, divchata myli, sumnenki.
Zlozyly bratchyky holovy za kray ridnenkyi.

A po tych slovach divchata slozy zronyly.
Sichovych strilciv, chlopciv-molodciv prosyly.

– Viz'mit' nas, strilci, chlopci-molodci, do boyu.
Nay zastupymo bratchykiv rany soboyu.