Timonia

Play louder than the accordion

I’ll sing you a song about our Russian Timonia

Laughter pours from the soul

Timonia is the name of the song.

There’s a quiet guy in the village

A sensitive guy by the name of Timonia

He doesn’t touch the spirits

There’s no other one like him in our parts.

Timonia, Timonyushka, curly hair

A young lad in a short coat.

Timonia is a young man

Bushy beard grows up to his ears

For three years he’s sat on a stove

Heating up the bricks until they were red hot.

He’s riding down the road

Like a curved-legged samovar

He wields his ax when he splits the logs

And manages not to hit his knee.

Timonia’s a strapping young lad

In a scarlet caftan

He hangs around girls

Courting them.

Once Timonia decided to get married

But he was afraid of his sweetheart

Hey, pretty girl

Won’t you love me?

Katerina was knitting a skirt

And told it like it was:

I love Timonia’s vigor,

I’m not afraid of the talks.

You shouldn’t make fun of him

My Timonia is the finest!

He may come off as timid

Our Russian Timonia

But if there’s trouble

He’s not afraid of anyone.