Ой верше, мій верше,
Мій дзелений верше,
Юж мі так не буде, (2) |
Як мі било перше. | (2)
А перше мі било
Світа уживати.
Тераз неборачок (2) |
Мушу бідувати. | (2)
А перше мі било,
Бардз мі добре било.
Од свойой мамічки (2) |
Не ходити било. | (2)
Не ходити било
Горами, лісами,
Не любити било (2) |
З чорнима очками. | (2)
Oh my poem, my poem,
My divisive poem,
South we will not, (2) |
As it was my first. | (2)
And the first was my beat
The world to eat.
Scales of non-wrinkles (2) |
I have to be poor. | (2)
And the first was
My bard was good.
One of Your Mommy (2) |
Do not walk. | (2)
Do not walk
Mountains, forests,
To dislike was (2)
With black glasses. | (2)
