Many waters to the sea have flowed,
Trouble to the home has come,
Many a tear down the cheek has run.
Poor old ’Stasia in earth they laid.
Hardly old Trophim’ from death they saved.
The cursed trouble roared so loud,
And then it went to sleep, I trow.
From the dark woods where she frightened lay
Peace came back in the home to stay.
The little Mark is farmer now.