Perepovnenyi Heorhiyamy kavalere,
Vranci vychodysh, niby z volyery,
Pachkayesh lyulkoyu na ptashok Bozych,
Chyhayesh pry dorozi na perechozych.

Pryspiv:
"Hey, kudy ydesh proz moyu fuziyu?
Pobalakaymo pro Hruziyu, pro dyfuziyu..."
Obsidayut', mov bdzoly, spohady, viziyi –
Zakotyvsya v nebo shlyach dyviziyi.

A po nomu koni prut', a shche tanky,
I prazanky pachnut', mov paryzanky,
I lafety pid mertvymy az zihnulys':
"Ya – odyn z tych, shcho povernulys'".

Himnasterka blyskaye, vsya v metali:
I za koznoho nevbytoho – po medali.
Paterycya v ruci, mov zyva parist':
"Hey, kudy ydesh proz moyu starist'?"

Pryspiv

Voyachkam nebesnym – dovichnu orhiyu,
Traven prozyvayemo bez rozkayan.
Vse teche richkoyu, staryi Heorhiyu,
Tilky ty na berezi, mertvyi, mov kamin...

Pryspiv