Zayshov misyachenko
Za chornuyu chmaru,
A maty shukaye
Svoyiy doni paru.

Shukaye, shukaye
Bahatoho syna,
A yiyi kochaye
Bidna syrotyna.

Kochaye, kochaye
Ta y dumaye braty,
Ta tomu kochannyu
Zaradyla maty.

– Oy, mamcyu, oy, mamcyu,
Shcho z vy narobyly,
My tak sya lyubyly,
A vy rozluchyly.