Chuye z yoho dusha, chuye,
Shcho vin vdoma ne nochuye.
Ta boyit'sya nochuvaty,
Shchob ne vzyaly u soldaty.
Nayichaly komisary,
Seychas molodcya spiymaly,
Nazad ruky izv’yazaly
Shche y pidvodu zahadaly.
Posadyly na zadochku,
Sami sily speredochku,
Shchob konyky ne stomyty,
Shchob molodcya ne zhubyty.
Na konyku pina stala –
Shche daleko do Braslava...
Staly loba rozbryvaty,
Stav molodec' umlivaty...