Lonely birch

(...) There was a birch tree in the field,
There was a curly one standing in the field;
Someone to break a birch tree,
There is no one to wrangle the curly hair.
Ill go for a walk
I will break a white birch;
I cut three twigs from a birch tree,
Ill make three beeps,
The fourth balalaika;
I’ll go to the new canopy,
I’ll start playing balalaika,
I will wake up the old man:
Get up, my old man, wake up,
Gray beard, wake up!
Heres some slop for you, wash yourself!
Heres a mat for you, dry yourself! (...)

An excerpt from the song Lvova-Pracha
1790.