- tell me, uncle, is not a giftmoscow, scorched by fire,given to a frenchman? there were well melee combat,yes, they say that any more! no wonder remembers all russiathe day of borodin! - yes, there were people in our time,not that the current tribe: heroes - not you! bad they got share: a few came in from the were it not for the lord willing,not have given b moscow! we for a long time in retreat,it was annoying, waited for the battle,grumbled the old men: "what shall we? in the winter the apartment? dare not, that is, the commanders of thestrangers изорвать uniformson russian bayonets? "and now found a large field: there are roam where at will! built redoubt.our ears open! a little morning shone on gunsand the forests of blue tops -the french there.scored a charge i'm in the gun tightand i thought: i'll buy another! wait a minute, brother frenchy.what's clever, perhaps for battle; we have to go break the wall,certainly we stand headfor his homeland! for two days we were in a firefight.what's the use in such trinkets? we waited for the third day.everywhere were heard speech: "it's time to get to the grape! "and that's in the field formidable sichnight shadow fell across.took a nap i had mast,and there was heard before the dawn,as jubilant french.but the quiet was our camp-outdoor: who shako cleaned all mangled,who bayonets sharpened, growling angrily,biting his long mustache.and only the sky lit upall noisy suddenly stirred,flashed the systems operation.colonel of ours was born grip: the servant of the king, the father of yes, it is a pity him, smitten of steel,he sleeps in the land of crude.and he said, flashing eyes: "guys! not moscow doesn in us? умремте same for moscow,as our brothers die! "and die we promised,and oath of allegiance to keepwe in the borodino battle.well was day! through the smoke flyingthe french moved, as the clouds,and all in our redoubt.lancers with colorful icons,the dragoons with ponytails,all flashed before us,everyone has visited here.you can not see such worn banners, as shadows,in the smoke of the fire was shiningsounded bulat, shot screaming,the hand of the soldiers stabbing tired,and the fly preventedmountain bloody bodies.known enemy in the day,a lot ofthat means a russian battle удалый,our hand-to-hand the earth shook as our breasts,mixed up in a bunch of people, horses,and volleys of thousands of gunsmerged in a long that's it. were all readyon the morrow the fight to start a newand until the end of the here's cracked -drumsand retreated бусурманы.then believe we were the wounds,comrades considered.yes, there were people in our time,strong, spirited tribe: heroes - not you.bad they got share: a few came in from the fields.when b to do god's will,not have given b moscow!
