Teksty: Woody Guthrie. Miss Pavilichenko.
Miss Pavilichenko's well known to fame;
Russia's your country,fighting is your game;
The whole world will love her for a long time to come,
For more than three hundred Nazis fell by your gun.
Miss Pavilichenko's well known to fame:
Russia's your country, fighting is your game;
Your smile shines as bright
As my new morning sun.
But more than three hundred nazisdogs fell by your gun.
In you mountains and canyons
Quiet as the deer.
Down in your bigtrees knowing no fear.
You lift up your sight,
And down comes a hun;
And more than three hundred nazidogs
Fell by your gun.
In your hot summer's heat,
In your cold wintery snow,
In all kinds of weather you track down your foe,
This world will love your sweet face
The same way I've done,
'Cause more than three hundred nazzy hound
Fell by your gun.
I'd hate to drop in a parachute
And land and enemy in your land;
If your Soviet people make it so hard on invadin' men:
Of such a pretty lady's gun
If her name was Pavilichenko, and mine Three O One.
[Chorus (after every verse):]
Fell by your gun, yes, Fell by your gun,
For more than three hundred Nazis fell by your gun
Russia's your country,fighting is your game;
The whole world will love her for a long time to come,
For more than three hundred Nazis fell by your gun.
Miss Pavilichenko's well known to fame:
Russia's your country, fighting is your game;
Your smile shines as bright
As my new morning sun.
But more than three hundred nazisdogs fell by your gun.
In you mountains and canyons
Quiet as the deer.
Down in your bigtrees knowing no fear.
You lift up your sight,
And down comes a hun;
And more than three hundred nazidogs
Fell by your gun.
In your hot summer's heat,
In your cold wintery snow,
In all kinds of weather you track down your foe,
This world will love your sweet face
The same way I've done,
'Cause more than three hundred nazzy hound
Fell by your gun.
I'd hate to drop in a parachute
And land and enemy in your land;
If your Soviet people make it so hard on invadin' men:
Of such a pretty lady's gun
If her name was Pavilichenko, and mine Three O One.
[Chorus (after every verse):]
Fell by your gun, yes, Fell by your gun,
For more than three hundred Nazis fell by your gun
Guthrie Woody
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