Taka solona nich ocya,
Lybon, shcho pyvom lysh zapyty.
U takt sloti sloza z ochey –
Meni vze nikoho lyubyty.

Pryspiv:
Staryi miy druze, lvivs'kyi bar,
Barmen veselyi, nevhamovnyi,
I pyvo svitle, mov yantar, –
Miy zadushevnyi spivrozmovnyk.
Hey, pyva y muzyku, barmen,
Slota-bida taky mynet'sya.
Zyva lehenda – ayn moment! –
I dolya nam uze smiyet'sya!

V rozshyvku mury kam’yani –
U nych bere pochatok Leta,
I v plyni piznoyi pory
Vpade tyahar z dushi poeta.

Pryspiv