OUPS-STOP!
Oups-Stop!
You go up here on the sly.
Oups-Stop!
And your impudence is too high,
Now to be justified not even,
Look you at the clouds,
At these stars on heaven,
You can see all what you see last time...
Oups-Stop!
You turned my love to stinky trash.
Oups-Stop!
You’d like so much the scent of
cash.
The fibers coat you often wear,
Ev’ry nite your legs is clear,
Made a bed for everywhere.
Recall us gang you hardly ever,
So now you must for all this fouls
eat the blade.
Oups-Stop!
Semyon, just poke her under edge,
Oups-Stop!
Don’t you break off your pointed edge
Against this immovable heart
Of bitch from under log,
Faster call here Hertzy,
Old kind fellow Hertzy,
He’ll sing her very stylish,
Very populary
In our sinagogue
Cool last pray.
Hoaxer (a)