"The commune took long To consider this offer: A desperate fellow Is Klimka the peasant, A drunkard, a rover, 380 And not very honest, No lover of work, And acquainted with gipsies; A vagabond, knowing A lot about horses. A scoffer at those Who work hard, he will tell you: 'At work you will never Get rich, my fine fellow; You'll never get rich,-- 390 But you're sure to get crippled!' But he, all the same, Is well up in his letters; Has been to St. Petersburg. Yes, and to Moscow, And once to Siberia, too, With the merchants. A pity it was That he ever returned! He's clever enough, 400 But he can't keep a farthing; He's sharp--but he's always In some kind of trouble. He's picked some fine words up From out of his travels: 'Our Fatherland dear,' And 'The soul of great Russia,' And 'Moscow, the mighty, Illustrious city!' 'And I,' he will shout, 410 'Am a plain Russian peasant!' And striking his forehead He'll swallow the vodka. A bottle at once He'll consume, like a mouthful. He'll fall at your feet For a bottle of vodka. But if he has money He'll share with you, freely; The first man he meets 420 May partake of his drink. He's clever at shouting And cheating and fooling, At showing the best side Of goods which are rotten, At boasting and lying; And when he is caught He'll slip out through a cranny, And throw you a jest, Or his favourite saying: 430 'A crack in the jaw Will your honesty bring you!'