He’s Coming, My Sweetheart

He’s coming, my sweetheart, he’s coming home.

He’s bringing me a precious gift.

Oy-li, oy-li, oy-la-li,

Lali, lali, ali-ley, la-li.

He’s carrying a silk whip in his right hand,

He wants to whip me, poor young maid.

I don’t know why, I don’t know what for,

Only that it will be my first misfortune.

The other day I dropped by my neighbor for a chat,

And offered a glass of wine to an unmarried man.

The man took the glass from me,

And pressed my hand with his to it.

He called me his sister in front of others,

And then he called me dear, too.

He said, “My dear Katyusha,

I love the way you walk.”

I walk softly,

And talk politely.