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 bii rushayut.
Yak pryishlo svyato Prechystoi Divy,
Strilci rozklaly vsi skorostrily.
Vze shodyt sonce pomiz horamy,
Vze surmy surmlyat pomiz strilcyamy.
– Dmytre Vitovskyi, shcho ty hadayesh,
Shcho ty polyakiv u Lviv puskayesh?!
Dmytro Vitovskyi 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 Prechystoi Maty,
Strilci pochaly za Zbruch stupaty.