On the edge of the forest, in a warm hut, there lived three brothers: a winged sparrow, a shaggy little mouse, and a buttery pancake.
They lived well and did not offend each other. Each did his job and helped the other. The sparrow brought food, the mouse chopped wood, and cooked cabbage soup and porridge.

It used to be that friends sat down at the table and couldn’t boast enough.
Sparrow says:
- Oh, cabbage soup is so good and fatty!
And damn it in response:
- And I, damn it, will plunge into the pot and come out - the cabbage soup is fatty.

And then the mouse says:
- And I’ll bring some firewood, bite it into small pieces, throw it into the stove - the fire burns well in the stove, the porridge cooks well!
“Yes, and I,” says the sparrow, “will not fail: I’ll pick mushrooms, haul beans - so you’re full!”
So they lived, praised each other, and did not offend themselves.

Just once the sparrow thought about it. “I,” he thinks, “work more than they do, fly through the forest all day long, beat my legs, flap my wings, from morning to evening hunting - doing hard work. This won’t happen again!”
The next day the pancake went hunting, the sparrow went to chop wood, and the mouse cooked dinner.

A pancake is rolling along the path, and a fox jumps out of the bushes and grabs the pancake by the oily side.
Damn struggled and struggled, barely escaped, left his side in the fox's teeth, and ran home.

What's going on at home? The mouse began to cook cabbage soup: no matter what he put in, no matter what he added, but the cabbage soup was not good, not fatty, not oily! The mouse remembered how he cooked pancake cabbage soup, and rushed into the pot. She was scalded, scalded, and barely escaped! The fur coat has come out, the tail is shaking.
She sat down on a bench and shed tears.

And the sparrow carried firewood: he dunged it, hauled it, and then let’s peck it and break it into small chips. He pecked, pecked, and turned his beak to the side. He sat down on the rubble and shed tears.

Text only:

On the edge of the forest, in a warm hut, there lived three brothers: a winged sparrow, a shaggy mouse and a butter pancake.

A sparrow flew from the field, a mouse ran away from the cat, a pancake ran away from the frying pan.

They lived, got along, and did not offend each other. Each did his job and helped the other. The sparrow brought food - from the fields of grains, from the forest of mushrooms, from the bean garden. The mouse chopped wood, and cooked pancake cabbage soup and porridge.

We lived well. Sometimes a sparrow would return from hunting, wash itself with spring water, and sit on a bench to rest. And the mouse carries firewood, sets the table, and counts the painted spoons. And the pancake is at the stove - rosy and plump - he cooks the cabbage soup, sprinkles it with coarse salt, tastes the porridge.

If they sit down at the table, they won’t boast enough. Sparrow says:

Oh, cabbage soup, boyar cabbage soup, how good and fatty!

Damn him:

And I, damn it, will plunge into the pot and come out - that’s how fatty cabbage soup is!

And the sparrow eats the porridge and praises:

Oh, porridge, what a porridge - it’s so hot!

And the mouse to him:

And I’ll bring some firewood, bite it into small pieces, throw it into the stove, and scatter it with my tail - the fire burns well in the stove - that’s how hot it is!

“And I,” says the sparrow, “will not fail: I’ll pick mushrooms, haul beans - so you’re full!”

This is how they lived, praised each other, and did not offend themselves.

Just once the sparrow thought about it.

“I,” he thinks, “fly through the forest all day, kicking my legs, fluttering my wings, but how do they work? In the morning, the pancake lies on the stove - basking, and only in the evening does it begin to eat dinner. And in the morning the mouse carries firewood and gnaws it, and then it climbs onto the stove, turns over on its side, and sleeps until lunchtime. And I am hunting from morning to night - doing hard work. This won’t happen again!”

The sparrow got angry - he stamped his feet, flapped his wings and started shouting:

We'll change jobs tomorrow!

Well, okay, fine. Damn it and the little mouse saw that there was nothing to do, so they decided on that. The next day, in the morning, the pancake went hunting, the sparrow went to chop wood, and the mouse went to cook dinner.

The damn thing rolled into the forest. Rolls along the path and sings:

Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side
Mixed with sour cream,
Fried in butter!
Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side!
He ran and ran, and Lisa Patrikeevna met him.

Where the hell are you running and in a hurry?

Go hunting.

What fucking song are you singing?

Damn jumped up and down and sang:

Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side
Mixed with sour cream,
Fried in butter!
Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side!
“Eat well,” says Lisa Patrikeevna, and she gets closer. - So, you say it’s mixed with sour cream?

Damn her:

With sour cream and sugar!

And the fox to him:

Jump-jump, you say?

Yes, how he will jump, and how he will snort, and how he will grab his oily side - ah!

And damn it screams:

Let me, fox, go into the dense forests, for mushrooms, for beans - to hunt!

And the fox to him:

No, I will eat you, swallow you, with sour cream, butter and sugar!

Damn fought and fought, barely escaped from the fox, left his side in his teeth, and ran home!

What's going on at home?

The mouse began to cook cabbage soup: no matter what he put in, the cabbage soup was not fatty, not good, not oily.

“How,” he thinks, “did you cook the cabbage soup? Oh, yes, he will dive into the pot and swim out, and the cabbage soup will become fat!”

The mouse took it and rushed into the pot. She was scalded, scalded, and barely escaped! The fur coat has come out, the tail is trembling. She sat down on a bench and shed tears.

And the sparrow was carrying firewood: he dunged it, hauled it, and then started pecking it and breaking it into small chips. He pecked, pecked, and turned his beak to the side. He sat down on the rubble and shed tears.

The pancake ran to the house and saw: a sparrow sitting on the rubble - its beak to the side, the sparrow was filled with tears. A pancake came running into the hut - a mouse was sitting on a bench, its fur had come out, its tail was trembling.

When they saw that half the side of the pancake had been eaten, they cried even more.

Here the damn thing says:

This always happens when one nods at the other and doesn’t want to do their job.

Here the sparrow hid under the bench out of shame.

Well, there is nothing to do, we cried and grieved, and began to live and live as before again: bringing food to the sparrow, chopping wood for the mouse, and cooking cabbage soup and porridge.

This is how they live, chew gingerbread, drink honey, and remember us.

On the edge of the forest, in a warm hut, there lived three brothers: a winged sparrow, a shaggy mouse and a butter pancake.

A sparrow flew from the field, a mouse ran away from the cat, a pancake ran away from the frying pan.

They lived, got along, and did not offend each other. Each did his job and helped the other. The sparrow brought food - from the fields of grains, from the forest of mushrooms, from the bean garden. The mouse chopped wood, and cooked pancake cabbage soup and porridge.

We lived well. Sometimes a sparrow would return from hunting, wash itself with spring water, and sit on a bench to rest. And the mouse carries firewood, sets the table, and counts the painted spoons. And the pancake is at the stove - rosy and plump - he cooks the cabbage soup, sprinkles it with coarse salt, tastes the porridge.

If they sit down at the table, they won’t boast enough. Sparrow says:

Oh, cabbage soup, boyar cabbage soup, how good and fatty!

Damn him:

And I, damn it, will plunge into the pot and come out - that’s how fatty cabbage soup is!

And the sparrow eats the porridge and praises:

Oh, porridge, what a porridge - it’s so hot!

And the mouse to him:

And I’ll bring some firewood, bite it into small pieces, throw it into the stove, and scatter it with my tail - the fire burns well in the stove - that’s how hot it is!
“Yes, and I,” says the sparrow, “will not fail: I’ll pick mushrooms, haul beans - so you’re full!”

This is how they lived, praised each other, and did not offend themselves. Just once the sparrow thought about it.

“I,” he thinks, “fly through the forest all day, kicking my legs, fluttering my wings, but how do they work? In the morning, the pancake lies on the stove - basking, and only in the evening does it begin to eat dinner. And in the morning the mouse carries firewood and gnaws it, and then it climbs onto the stove, turns over on its side, and sleeps until lunchtime. And I am hunting from morning to night - doing hard work. This won’t happen again!”

The sparrow got angry - he stamped his feet, flapped his wings and started shouting:

We'll change jobs tomorrow!

Well, okay, fine. Damn it and the little mouse saw that there was nothing to do, so they decided on that. The next day, in the morning, the pancake went hunting, the sparrow went to chop wood, and the mouse went to cook dinner.

The damn thing rolled into the forest. Rolls along the path and sings:

Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side
Mixed with sour cream,
Fried in butter!
Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side!

He ran and ran, and Lisa Patrikeevna met him.

Where the hell are you running and in a hurry?
- Go hunting.
- What song are you singing, damn it?

Damn jumped up and down and sang:

Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side
Mixed with sour cream,
Fried in butter!
Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side!

“Eat well,” says Lisa Patrikeevna, and she gets closer. - So, you say it’s mixed with sour cream?

Damn her:

With sour cream and sugar!

And the fox to him:

Jump-jump, you say?

Yes, how he will jump, and how he will snort, and how he will grab his oily side - ah!

And damn it screams:

Let me, fox, go into the dense forests, for mushrooms, for beans - to hunt!

And the fox to him:

No, I will eat you, swallow you, with sour cream, butter and sugar!

Damn fought and fought, barely escaped from the fox, left his side in his teeth, and ran home!

What's going on at home?

The mouse began to cook cabbage soup: no matter what he put in, the cabbage soup was not fatty, not good, not oily.

“How,” he thinks, “did you cook the cabbage soup? Oh, yes, he will dive into the pot and swim out, and the cabbage soup will become fat!”

The mouse took it and rushed into the pot. She was scalded, scalded, and barely escaped! The fur coat has come out, the tail is trembling. She sat down on a bench and shed tears.

And the sparrow was carrying firewood: he dunged it, hauled it, and then started pecking it and breaking it into small chips. He pecked, pecked, and turned his beak to the side. He sat down on the rubble and shed tears.

The pancake ran to the house and saw: a sparrow sitting on the rubble - its beak to the side, the sparrow was filled with tears. A pancake came running into the hut - a mouse was sitting on a bench, its fur had come out, its tail was trembling.

When they saw that half the side of the pancake had been eaten, they cried even more.

Here the damn thing says:

This always happens when one nods at the other and doesn’t want to do their job.

Here the sparrow hid under the bench out of shame.

Well, there is nothing to do, we cried and grieved, and began to live and live as before again: bringing food to the sparrow, chopping wood for the mouse, and cooking cabbage soup and porridge.

This is how they live, chew gingerbread, drink honey, and remember us.

On the edge of the forest, in a warm hut, there lived three brothers: a winged sparrow, a shaggy mouse and a buttery pancake. Each did his job and helped the other.

The sparrow brought food:
From the field - grains,
From the forest - mushrooms,
I'll bring beans from the garden!

The mouse was chopping wood:
Eh, once! Eh, two!
I'll chop wood!
The stove will be lit,
The porridge will cook!

And Damn didn’t waste his time, cooking cabbage soup and porridge:
Kashka-baby, you are so good
If you add a little milk!
Add sugar, salt, raisins,
We will serve porridge and cabbage soup to the table!

Friends gather at the table, and then Damn puts full cast iron pots on the table:
- Here's cabbage soup, here's porridge... Our food is good!

The brothers eat - they can’t boast enough. Mouse says:
- Oh, the cabbage soup is so fatty and good!

Damn him:
- And I’m Damn Oily, I’ll dip into the pot and come out - that’s how fatty the cabbage soup is!

And Sparrow eats porridge and praises:
- Oh, porridge, what a porridge!

And the Mouse to him:
“And I’ll bring some firewood, bite it into small pieces, throw it into the oven, and sweep it with my tail - the fire burns well in the oven, so the porridge is hot, boiled!”
“Yes, and I,” says Sparrow, “is not a mistake: I’ll pick mushrooms, haul beans - so you’re full!”

So they lived, praising each other.

Just once Sparrow thought about it:
“I,” he thinks, “fly through the forest all day, kicking my legs, fluttering my wings, but how do they work? In the morning, Pancake lies on the stove - basking, only in the evening he takes up dinner. And the Mouse carries firewood in the morning and gnaws, and Then he’ll climb onto the stove, turn on his side, and sleep until lunchtime. And I’m hunting from morning to night - this won’t happen again!”

The Sparrow got angry - he stomped his feet, flapped his wings and started shouting:
– Tomorrow we’ll change jobs! We'll change jobs tomorrow!

Pancake and Little Mouse came running, and the sparrow began to order them:
- You, Damn, will go hunting in the morning. I, Sparrow, will chop wood tomorrow. And you, Little Mouse, will heat the stove, cabbage soup and cook porridge!

Okay, fine. Damn and the Mouse saw that there was nothing to do, so they decided on that. The next day, in the morning, Pancake went hunting, Sparrow went to chop wood, and Mouse went to cook dinner.

So Damn rolled into the forest. Rolls along the path and sings:
Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I'm a butter side
I'm smart, I'm strong,
I don't care!
Damn there was a worker in the kitchen -
There is now a hunter in the forest!
Jumping gallop,
I'm a butter side
Jumping gallop,
I'm a butter side!

And towards him was Lisa Patrikeevna.
- Where are you, Blinkok, running, in a hurry?
- Go hunting!
- You must be a great hunter?
- Damn, there was a worker in the kitchen - now he’s become a hunter in the forest!
- What song are you singing, Blinok?

Damn jumped up and down and sang his song.
Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I'm a butter side
I'm smart, I'm strong,
I don't care!
Damn there was a worker in the kitchen -
There is now a hunter in the forest!

“Eat well,” says Lisa Patrikeevna, and she gets closer.

Yes, how he will jump, and how he will snort, and how he will grab Damn by the buttery side - ah! Damn fought and fought, barely escaped from the fox: he left his side in his teeth and ran home.

What's going on at home? The Mouse began to cook cabbage soup; whatever he puts in, whatever he adds, but the cabbage soup is not fatty, not good, not oily!
“How,” he thinks, “did you cook the cabbage soup? Oh, he’ll dive into the pot and swim out, and the cabbage soup will become fat!”

The Mouse took it and rushed into the pot. I was scalded, scalded, and barely jumped out! The fur coat has come out, the tail is shaking. He sat down on a bench and shed tears.

And Sparrow carried firewood. Dung and let's peck and break into small chips. Pecked, pecked, turned his beak to the side!

Damn ran to the house and saw Sparrow sitting on the rubble with his beak to the side and bursting into tears:
- Oh, my head hurts! Oh, my shoulders ache!

And in the hut, the Little Mouse is sitting on a bench, his fur coat has come out, his tail is trembling:
- Oh, my back hurts, oh, my tail is shaking!

Here the damn thing says:
– This always happens when one nods at the other and doesn’t want to do his job!..

Well, there was nothing to do, they cried, grieved, and began to live and live as before: Sparrow brought food, Mouse chopped wood, and Damn cooked cabbage soup and porridge.

This is how they live, chew gingerbread, drink honey, and remember us.

© All rights reserved

On the edge of the forest, in a warm hut, there lived three brothers: a winged sparrow, a shaggy mouse and a butter pancake.

A sparrow flew from the field, a mouse ran away from the cat, a pancake ran away from the frying pan.

They lived, got along, and did not offend each other. Each did his job and helped the other. The sparrow brought food - from the fields of grains, from the forest of mushrooms, from the bean garden. The mouse chopped wood, and cooked pancake cabbage soup and porridge.

We lived well. Sometimes a sparrow would return from hunting, wash itself with spring water, and sit on a bench to rest. And the mouse carries firewood, sets the table, and counts the painted spoons. And the pancake is at the stove - rosy and plump - he cooks the cabbage soup, sprinkles it with coarse salt, tastes the porridge.

If they sit down at the table, they won’t boast enough. Sparrow says:
- Oh, cabbage soup, boyar cabbage soup, how good and fatty it is!

Damn him:
- And I, damn it, will plunge into the pot and come out - that’s the fatty cabbage soup!

And the sparrow eats the porridge and praises:
- Oh, porridge, what a porridge - it’s so hot!

And the mouse to him:
“And I’ll bring some wood, bite it into small pieces, throw it into the stove, and scatter it with my tail - the fire burns well in the stove - that’s how hot it is!”
“Yes, and I,” says the sparrow, “will not fail: I’ll pick mushrooms, haul beans - so you’re full!”

This is how they lived, praised each other, and did not offend themselves.

Just once the sparrow thought about it.

“I,” he thinks, “fly through the forest all day, kicking my legs, fluttering my wings, but how do they work? In the morning, the pancake lies on the stove - basking, and only in the evening does it begin to eat dinner. And in the morning the mouse carries firewood and gnaws it, and then it climbs onto the stove, turns over on its side, and sleeps until lunchtime. And I’m hunting from morning to night - doing hard work. This won’t happen again!”

The sparrow got angry - he stamped his feet, flapped his wings and started shouting:
- We'll change jobs tomorrow!

Well, okay, fine. Damn it and the little mouse saw that there was nothing to do, so they decided on that. The next day, in the morning, the pancake went hunting, the sparrow went to chop wood, and the mouse went to cook dinner.

The damn thing rolled into the forest. Rolls along the path and sings:

Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side
Mixed with sour cream,
Fried in butter!
Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side!
He ran and ran, and Lisa Patrikeevna met him.

“Where are you going, damn it, in a hurry?”
- Go hunting.
- What song are you singing, damn it?

Damn jumped up and down and sang:

Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side
Mixed with sour cream,
Fried in butter!
Jumping gallop,
Jumping gallop,
I am a buttery side!

“Eat well,” says Lisa Patrikeevna, and she gets closer. - So, you say it’s mixed with sour cream?

Damn her:
- With sour cream and sugar!

And the fox to him:
- Jump-jump, you say?

How he jumps, how he snorts, how he grabs his oily side - ah!

And damn it screams:
- Let me, fox, into the dense forests, for mushrooms, for beans - to hunt!

And the fox to him:
- No, I will eat you, swallow you, with sour cream, butter and sugar!

Damn fought and fought, barely escaped the fox, left his side in his teeth, and ran home!

What's going on at home?

The mouse began to cook cabbage soup: no matter what he put in, the cabbage soup was not fatty, not good, not oily.

“How,” he thinks, “did you cook the pancake? Oh, yes, he will dive into the pot and swim out, and the cabbage soup will become fat!”

The mouse took it and rushed into the pot. She was scalded, scalded, and barely escaped! The fur coat has come out, the tail is trembling. She sat down on a bench and shed tears.

And the sparrow was carrying firewood: he dunged it, hauled it, and then started pecking it and breaking it into small chips. He pecked, pecked, and turned his beak to the side. He sat down on the rubble and shed tears.

The pancake ran to the house and saw: a sparrow sitting on the rubble - its beak to the side, the sparrow was filled with tears. The pancake came running into the hut - a mouse was sitting on a bench, its fur had come out, its tail was trembling.

When they saw that half the side of the pancake had been eaten, they cried even more.

Here the damn thing says:
“This always happens when one nods at the other and doesn’t want to do his job.”

Here the sparrow hid under the bench out of shame.

Well, there is nothing to do, we cried and grieved, and began to live and live as before again: bringing food to the sparrow, chopping wood for the mouse, and cooking cabbage soup and porridge.

This is how they live, chew gingerbread, drink honey, and remember us.