We've often been told
How the peasant loves drinking;
Not many there are, though,
Who know how he eats.
He's greedier far 390
For his food than for vodka,
So one man to-day
(A teetotaller mason)
Gets perfectly drunk
On his breakfast of goose!
A shout! "Who is coming?
Who's this?" Here's another
Excuse for rejoicing
And noise! There's a hay-cart
With hay, now approaching, 400
And high on its summit
A soldier is sitting.
He's known to the peasants
For twenty versts round.
And, cosy beside him,
Justinutchka sits
(His niece, and an orphan,
His prop in old age).
He now earns his living
By means of his peep-show, 410
Where, plainly discerned,
Are the Kremlin and Moscow,
While music plays too.
The instrument once