Crescent Seashore is no more,
Famous oaks became a lore;
Oak is good for hardwood floor -
Ain’t no more!

Mighty goons came to the hood,
Cut down oaks for coffin wood,
So those giants are gone for good,
Rest assured.

Happy living never ends
In the house on chicken legs,
But here came to no one’s gain -
Featherbrain.

What a man that fella was!
He performed a feat of arms:
With the witch he drank it turns
Till all burns!

Oh, my heartache’s deepening,
Please be gone instead!
This is just an opening,
More awaits ahead.

There’s indeed a cat that talks,
On the chain of gold he walks:
To his right - he sings to folks,
Left - he jokes.

But this scholar left his tree,
Pawned the chain and then ran free,
Now he’s on a drinking spree -
S.O.B!

For God’s gift, on one fine day
He received a handsome pay;
Fumes were smelled to our dismay
Miles away!

But, alas, he had a stroke;
He dictates his major work,
History of Tatar Folk,
For he’s broke.

Oh, my heartache’s deepening,
Please be gone instead!
This is just an opening,
More awaits ahead.

Thirty-three courageous lads
Had enough of tsar’s demands,
They won’t guard his vast expands:
Sea and sands.

Each of them had claimed a lot,
Brought some chickens and whatnot.
Now they guard their diddly-squat,
All for naught.

And their captain, old and dark,
Stripped the oak tree from its bark,
Used the wood to build a shack,
straight-up wack.

He would curse from dawn till late,
Their sea-uncle as of late,
Though he had in Moscow State
An estate.

Oh, my heartache’s deepening,
Please be gone instead!
This is just an opening,
More awaits ahead.

And the mermaid caused much mirth:
Showed her honor of no worth,
And one day (and how on earth?!)
She gave birth.

Thirty-three performed like one:
They don’t want to claim the son:
With their regiment he’ll run,
As its son.

Once upon a time a mage
(Lying, cheating and deranged)
Gave her, as a women’s sage,
Such a pledge:

"Mermaid, girl, I know your kind,
I can take you with your child..."
And she went off to his cave
As a slave.

Oh, my heartache’s deepening,
Please be gone instead!
This is just an opening,
More awaits ahead.

The long-bearded Black Sea Chief,
Crescent Seashore’s topmost thief,
Stole Ludmila to his cliff -
Such a grief!

For this crook, to no surprise,
Is successful since he flies:
Once you take away your eyes,
He will size!

And the carpet aeroplane
Can be witnessed once again:
The museum took it in -
To be seen!

The old codger’s glad to steal
Girls and women at his will.
When will he begin to feel
A death chill?

Oh, my heartache’s deepening,
Please be gone instead!
This is just an opening,
More awaits ahead.

There’s no living, there’s no use:
The wood-goblin drank all booze;
Nothing left but to abuse
His old spouse:

"Gimme cash, or I’ll go nuts,
I provided you for months!
If you don’t then I at once
Sell my axe!

Didn’t I get seeds for food? -
The wood-goblin then pursued. -
All that bark I brought, and wood?
Don’t be rude!

For your benefit, I dashed
Back and forth across the marsh.
You don’t want to spare me cash,
Oh, you’re trash!"

Oh, my heartache’s deepening,
Please be gone instead!
This is just an opening,
More awaits ahead.

All the magic beasts are gone,
There’s nothing left to hunt:
The gamekeepers with their guns
Spared no one.

It’s no secret anymore:
You won’t find this Crescent Shore.
Poet’s writings from before
Are mad lore.

Woe, please stop from deepening,
Don’t you hurt my soul.
If it’s just an opening,
Then it’s really foul.