Текст песни Беломорканал - а кто не грешный

He was Maltsev clicked all his Tramp,
And at night, chasing him all a charade.
He left the back streets of debris,
Only one known to him lanes.
And the thieves old laughed and went mad,
As the debris but not in the other side of flying.
And notice the conversation between themselves:

The dashing lad, and be the life of him a thief.

And therefore Russia does not Rostov
As there are no camps, no thieves.
And the thieves law is correct and honest,
Yes, God forgive, do not steal ... and who is not a sinner?

A teddy bear for her and did everything right
Sometimes in life a lot Musorskogo poison.
And still on a life all its richness:
The soul of a tramp, his mother let the brotherhood thieves.
Fate wore on Stolypin, over bumps,
And I wrote a biography of the life of the lines.
It has traces of sharpening and revolver,
Since debris caught Mishka urkagany