М. Жванецкий - Нет нашей бабы лучше - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Our!

All shout: "Frenchwoman, Frenchwoman!" - And I think so: there is no woman better. Our baba is our biggest achievement. Before that - and so, both so, and the tute-Muti, and got up, and sat down, and bowed, novels, engaged ... Our hundred grams gave, on the tram rolled - yours.

Marriage does not recognize the calculation. What can you give her? Her wealth does not differ from yours. And unavocalizing, strong, clear-eyed, standing down, happy from nonsense. Food is mine herself. And wiring, lime, and bricks, and sleepers, and the kernel throws the invisibly where. And wallets for five hundred kilograms and ahead - a stroller with a child! This is the same after seeking in the taiga. And in the queue, put - keeps! The Englishwoman does not hold, Romanian does not hold, our keeps. From five men, it will come to the push, the seller will twist, and take the exact weight.

Put the car - lead, give the tank - will lead. His husband will find out. And by how the key in the door inserts, he knows that he has at work, what chronicity, what kind of vigilance he suggested him on three. And in the morning - hear? - Du-doo, top top top, country trembles: then our women went to work. Our saints are coming, flesh flesh, our dear ribs.

Oh, these arriving - Finns, Belgians, New Zealanders. Better, they say your women in general there are no world. So they look around, and our national richness is being taken out. What, they say, her strength - she herself does not think. Love fool - hold, you love smart - please. Want a strong, you want a weak ...

In any city it is going to him, the work is not afraid of losing. In the rain comes, in the Purga leaves. At all, the man was confused and moved to the side. Lost from manifold, strength, depth. Weaker significantly turned out to be our man, much less interesting, primitive. Crazy, a bad eye looks, the authorities are afraid to death, can not solve anything. At work is silent, at home on the guitar plays. And this damn it is not afraid, not a single boss in the penny. Moscow comes to Moscow, for his son, for the holy soul his own. For men in front of men stands.

So will be remembered in full height: the father cries in one shoulder, her husband to another, the child's chest is thirty years old, the grandson of ten years holds. So stands in the photo that in the world he walks, - one for the whole earth!