V Ameryci dobre,
Yak naydesh robotu,
Todi sya pryberesh
Vecherom v subotu.

Ruky u kysheni,
Dzygar kolo boku,
De sya ne ohlyanesh,–
Hroshi ye, nivroku.

A shcho meni z toho,
Shcho ya hroshi mayu,
Koly zinka z dit'my
Biduyut' u krayu.

Oy Boze miy, Boze,
Shcho robyty mayu,
Zletiv by-m dodomu
Ta krylec' ne mayu.

Sumno meni, sumno
Yak vechir, tak rano:
Na moyim serdenku
Veselosti malo.

Veseloste moya,
De ty sya podila?
Tam, u ridnim krayu,
Na kameni sila.

Do poludnya cvila,
Vid poludnya v’yala,
Des' moya veselist',
Yak rosa, propala.

Na hori bereza,
Vitrec' yi kolyshe,
Des' moya veselist'
Dribnyi lystok pyshe.

Litery vyvodyt'
Hnuchkymy lozamy,
Chto lyst prochytaye,
Vmyyet'sya slozamy.