Every girl, hardly getting rid of it,
Until the breasts grow,
He dreams, breathing, of a fairy prince,
Who will find it.
And the princes of these, one or two, fell together,
Especially in our cold areas.
And the girls cry, and the tail is broken,
The divorce is on their cheeks.
The girls of businessmen,
In the ass the masters give up.
There are tens of thousands of them,
Marriage does not take anything.
Time goes by, girls get older.
The pattern of stretches does not please the eye.
Cocktails burned on the herb.
A pattern of old straws fell on the floor.
No need, girls, to aspire to wealth.
The hunt for the prince reminds of the route
A simple, ordinary blasphemy.
Getting married, girls, they don’t take fools.

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