A bullet whooshed by me and
Hit me in the breast
I escaped my death—courser did his best.
But then a commissar laid his sword on me—
I reeled back and fell from the horse anear.
CHORUS:
Hey! Heigh-ho! You my jet-black horse!
Hey! My steel gun’s brute force!
Hey! Fog’s my only friend!
Hey! Hoy, our father atamán,
Our cossack atamán!
Wounded in a leg, I came back from war,
Tethered my black horse at my wifey’s door.
But within an hour
Came a commissar,
He unhitched my horse, took my wife too far.
Chorus x2
Jesus from the wall’s in my bosom now1
I have burnt the hut2 and retrieved my gun
Living with the Reds3
Is like pawning roods!4
Many of my friends left their homes for woods.5
1. In Russia, in case of disaster icons were to be resqued as well as family members2. There's a Russian military tradition of burning premises before a forced withdrawal so that foes couldn't use them anymore3. Bolsheviks are meant4. Lit.: selling one's own baptismal cross—the worst thing a Russian Orthodox could possibly do5. to form rebel squads and start fighting with Bolsheviks