Along the old rooftops crawls gramps Kozlodoev,
As impudent as any quail.
To crawl in the windows attempts Kozlodoev,
And into the sack with some girl.
One used to find empty-eyed young Kozlodoev
Philanderer who would just whistle
And women would harken to join Kozlodoev
In love acts performed in the thistle.
This pasttime was cherished by young Kozlodoev
Of dozens heТd no one neglect.
A national hero they called Kozlodoev
And everyone paid him respect.
But nowadays bitches just fear Kozlodoev,
Each hidden behind lock and key.
And wet are his pants as he crawls,
Kozlodoev's old and just needs to pee.