You will go out to the wide in the field And not scary FSB. This is not a song about a falcon, This is a song about Bobra. His song about his tooth is sharp, About its flat tail. Cracks and violent, sink, The coffins carry to the churchyard. Poles, sons of freedom, Lose a firmness under their feet They are filled with water Caused by beaver. Scared the scientists of the Olukhs, Pork flu, cow's rabies. To you, gentlemen futurologists, It's time to hang on aspen.