I return to the hoof,
the hoof is my home.
He stands in the barn,
runs across the meadow,
pulls a heavy cart.
There is a bitch on the goatee,
she quarrels with me.
I crack the drum
and at the same time she says:
I will return to the hoof.
If there is a whore in the hoof,
I will not be there again .
I'm not there right now,
so I sing to myself:
I'll go back to the hoof.
I don't know what kind of a bitch she is,
she doesn't know what I am.
We always just take turns.
We keep a guard in the hoof.
We keep a guard in the hoof.
We keep a guard in the hoof.