V zelenim hayu drevko rubayut,
Az do Dunayu
Trisky padayut.

Padayut velky, padayut maly,
Pod yich pozberay,
Divchatko myle!

Pod yich pozberay, naklad z nych ohnya,
Vyper koshelyu
V p’yatnycyu dodnya.

V p’yatnycyu dodnya koshelyu prala,
A u subotu
Yey prasuvala.

A u subotu yey prasuvala,
By na nedilyu
Myloho vbrala.

V nedilyu rano, yak sonce schodyt,
Yuz miy mylenkyi
Pid pirkom chodyt.

Pid pirkom chodyt pid cyprusovym,
Pid kapelyushkom,
Pid kalynovym.

Keby ya znala, kotra mu dala,
Zaraz by ya mu
Vershok zlamala.

Vershok zlamala, v pecu spalyla,
Nay mi ne lyubyt
Moho frayira.

Any moyoho, any chuzoho,
Nechay ze maye
Kazda svoyoho!