Iváshechko, Iváshechko, my little son,

Up to the shore let your little boat run:

Here is some drink and here is a bun!

Iváshechko, Iváshechko, my little son, Up to the shore let your little boat run: Here is some drink and here is a bun!

But Iváshechko knew the voice, and whose voice it was. So he sang:

Little boat, little boat, sail far away,

O’er the blue water away and away.

The Evil Woman’s calling me