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View in translit
На спящий город опускается туман,
Шалят ветра по подворотням и дворам,
А нам всё это не впервой,
А нам доверено судьбой
Оберегать на здешних улицах покой.
Да! А пожелай ты им ни пуха, ни пера.
Да! Пусть не по правилам игра.
Да! И если завтра будет круче, чем вчера,
"Прорвёмся," - ответят опера.
Прорвёмся, опера!
Ещё вечерние зажгутся фонари,
Туман рассеется и что ни говори,
Сейчас бы просто по сто грамм
И не мотаться по дворам,
Но рановато расслабляться операм.
Да! А пожелай ты им ни пуха, ни пера.
Да! Пусть не по правилам игра.
Да! И если завтра будет круче, чем вчера,
"Прорвёмся," - ответят опера.
Прорвёмся, опера!
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