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THE MINX FROM PINSK (Vera Johnson) The Russian steppes are cold and bare, they have no escalators And when the winter blizzard blows you need fur boots and gaiters The wind howls like a banshee ghost, but inside we're as warm as toast We sit around the samovar, and this is what we sing: cho: That minx from Pinsk, I never shall forget So young, so plump, I'm dreaming of her yet In her red babushka she was beautiful and gay That minx from Pinsk, she stole my heart away Hoi! If I lived a thousand years, I'd not forget my Olga The many happy hours we spent canoeing on the Volga She would paddle, I would sing, and pluck the balalaika string And the song I sang to her it always was the same That Minx... I was then her lover bold, she called me brave and daring And she kissed me when I gave her gifts of pickled herring When she saw them in the brine, 'twas then she swore that sh'd be mine It was so romantic that it makes me want to cry That Minx... Then there came a rival by the name of Stanislavsky He took her out on winter nights, joy-riding in his droshky When the winter turned to spring he gave her a diamond ring All my happiness was gone, it turned to black despair That Minx.... If you want a happy life, take my advice tovarish Never look at girls and never ever think of marrish Just as you hear wedding bells she runs off with someone else Better you should cut your throat before that day arrives That Minx.... If you require more precision, I'll dig out the record and give it a hear-through. I occasionally do the song as a party piece for my Hungarian erstwhile teachers of Russian/now students of English: how much of the words I've changed I haven't a clue. The jokes are all in the rhymes (and in Vera's asides, also on the record), so all the punchlines are there except for the rich general-purpose Slav accent. AR @Russian filename[ MINXPNSK AR oct97 |
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