Petlura Petlura Burning blazing fireplace By Cerik. Download mp3 for free
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Petlura Petlura Burning blazing fireplace By Cerik
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Chords, synopsis and lyrics of the song Burning, blazing fireplace by Viktor Petlyura
And again let’s look at the old yard songs, or as they were called “blatnaya” or “pioneer songs” (in jest). Because in Soviet times they were sung in pioneer camps. We wrote down the lyrics in the notebooks. Here is one of such songs about the hard fate of young criminals BURNED A BLazing CHAMBER or THE YOUNG BOY ARRANGER. An older version started with the words WHEN I WAS TEN YEARS AGO. Let’s see how to play on the guitar the most popular version of this song today, performed by Viktor Petlyura. An uncomplicated, but expressive melody. And here are the chords, unlike the old freestyle songs, where, as you know, everything was played on three chords, here we have five chords. We’ll play it in the lightest key with no barre chords.
The first two verses are usually played overdubbed, so you don’t have to speed up right away, and start out quietly with this sad story. But you can also just slide the strings from top to bottom on the percussive syllables, where the chords are set. The first Accord Am in A minor is played without words. First, we strum the chord Am in A minor, then we sing the words Burn burning fireplace and on the syllable MI in the word fireplace we strum the chord Dm in D minor:
The next line begins with a G chord in G major. We strum the strings and then we sing the words judged young guy, and on the syllable DO in the word young we play Accord C in C major:
The next line is played like the first. First we strum the chord Am in A minor, then we sing the text “He was beautiful by himself” and at the end of the syllable SI in “beautiful” we play Accord Dm in D minor:
And the last line begins with a chord without words. Put E in E major, sing but in life made a lot and in the word wicked on the syllable LO play Am in A minor:
So that’s the first verse we’ve got. There is no chorus in the song. Who likes it, you can repeat the last two lines of the verse, you can not repeat. Some people repeat, only in the first and last verse. You can start by playing the whole song that way, or you can switch to a guitar part from the third verse. The most suitable here is of course a sixth, with or without muffling:
The jamming will have more effect, it’ll be more showy or something. The second and the fifth string movements are muffled. They are both on the count of 2 in the rhythmic pattern. Moving the finger down the strings at once muffled palm, it is done almost at the same time, at one account:
The last verse, like the first, can be played overdubbed. I suggest this long overdub.
It can be played both slowly and quickly, depending on how dexterous your fingers are. If you play all the time, your fingers get used to it and they start running faster on their own. ♪ Watch this breakdown, it’ll help you better understand how and what to do ♪.
A blazing fireplace was burning A young lad was on trial
A LADY OF YOUNG BOY On a flaming fireplace in the distance, A young lad was on trial, He was handsome as he was, But he’d done a lot of bad things in his life.
He asked to speak, and the judges gave him the word, And his speech was full of longing, and sorrow, and grief.
♪ When I was ten years old I was out of my family, I learned how to steal ♪ ♪ And I got mixed up with a bunch of hoodlums ♪.
When I was twenty years old, I was in the circle of “good” friends, I learned how to kill And I made a lot of pennies.
One day we came into the village, Where people were sleeping peacefully, We robbed a house, But no light was lit in it.
And when the robbery was over, My friends were gone, I lit the light for a minute, Oh, people, what I saw there:
Before me stood my mother, dying with a dagger in her breast, And on the floor lay my father, slain by the ataman’s hand.
And her six-year-old sister In her crib dying quietly, Like a fish without water, Her mouth slightly open.
When he had finished speaking, The whole hall was in tears. He was asked to be spared, But the judges read the sentence.
Even though you told the truth, We can’t spare you. For your wrongs We pass the death sentence.
In the distance a blazing fireplace, Led to the firing squad of the young, He was handsome himself, But did much evil in life.
Ships came into our harbor. Retrieved from. 1. М., Dragonfly, 2000. Same version: Sergei Granenog, “Ships Went Into Our Harbor” CD. “Vostok,” 2001 (vv. 7 “And his speech was full”; in the first and last verses, the last two lines are repeated).
In plot and mood it’s the male analogue of the song “They judged a girl alone” (“Murochka Bobrova”). Even the verse size is the same, but their melodies are different (at least on modern soundtracks, including “Havana”), though in some ways they are similar.
When I was ten years old
A song from the “court” series, one of the “male” variations of Murochka Bobrova. Born in a criminal environment, it has gained wide popularity among the people, and above all, among teenagers. This bloody “horror story” was part of the obligatory folklore repertoire not only of Soviet convict camps, but also of pioneer camps. Many variants of the song have survived in the songbooks of schoolgirls since the fifth grade. The song about the unfortunate murderer of his own family has many titles and even more variations. I called it “When I was ten years old” because in all versions and reworkings this line (as well as the story of the atrocities of the repentant maniac) remains the same.
In the midst of the raging crowd A young lad was tried, (1) He was handsome himself, (2) But he did a lot of evil.
He asked to speak, And the judges gave him the floor, And his speech was Full of longing, and sorrow, and grief: (3)
“When I was ten years old, I broke away from my family, I learned to steal And every day I got drunk.
When I was twenty years old, I was with my best friends, I stole as much as anyone And I drank the loot with them. (4)
One day we came into the village, Where people were sleeping peacefully, We robbed a house, But we didn’t light a fire.
I took the matches, lit the fire. O judge what I saw there!. Then I cursed all the gods And hated myself: (5)
In front of me stood my mother, In her breast with a dagger dying, She had waited for me a long time, She was waiting for me to say goodbye.
And on the floor my father lay, My hand had killed him, His cold corpse long since was drenched with scarlet blood. (6)
And my five year old sister In her crib dying in silence. “She was like a fish without water, She opened her soft mouth.”.
When he ended his speech, The hall was full of sorrow. He stood silent and silent, And the judges read the sentence:
“Though you’ve told the truth, We can’t spare you, For your crimes we’ll pass a harsh sentence.”. (7)
In the midst of the raging crowd They led a young man to be shot. He was handsome as he was, But he had done many evil things in his life.
(1) Variants. “A raging reed was making noise”, “A blazing fireplace was burning”, “Reeds were making noise in the distance”, and so on. The variant I cite is, evidently, the original, since it retains at least some meaning. It is difficult to imagine that the judges were listening to a murderer sitting by a blazing fireplace, or buried in the reeds. (2) Variant. “He was handsome and silent”. (3) A variation on the verse. “(5) He was about to be shot, He asked the judges for a word, They didn’t dare refuse him. The law has no right to do so.”. (4) Variant. “When I was twenty years old, I lived among good fellows, I learned how to kill, and I made a lot of pennies. (5) In the yearbook of Olga M, a seventh-grader from Kiev, a Russian schoolgirl, I found a picture of a girl from the same school. (1976 г.) The next variant. “I took matches, I lit a fire. Oh, my God! What did I see?? I had my mother standing in front of me, And it was I who offended her.”. It’s a good offense to put a dagger in your mother’s chest. (6) By the same Olga M. An absolutely wonderful version of the verse. “And my father was lying on the floor, He was killed by my hand. “His beautiful corpse lay, From the wound the blood poured like a river”. This sense of artistic admiration for the “beautiful corpse” of a father lying in blood is hilarious. A fucking aesthete. This brings to mind a passage from a blatnoy song, which in its article “Fatherland. And the murderer, whiter than chalk, seized the corpse and danced with it and sang. “What a pity I couldn’t find this masterpiece of criminal lyricism. (7) The authors of some reworkings are still full of compassion for the murderer and end the song like this. “For robbing, murdering, We have the right to shoot. For telling the truth. We’ll change the measure of punishment.”. Noted in the Perm educational-labor colony for minors in the late 1980s and early 1990s.
Zhiganets F. Criminal Lyrics. Compilation. Rostov-on-Don: “Phoenix”, 2001, pp. 175-177.
When I was ten years old
When I was ten I got mixed up with some punk kids, I learned how to steal And every day I’d get drunk.
When I was twenty years old, I lived with my beloved friends. I stole as well as anyone And got the loot with them.
We once entered a village, Where people were sleeping peacefully, We robbed a house, But we didn’t light a fire.
I took the matches, I lit the fire, Oh, judges, what did I see?! I cursed the gods, I hated the enemy in me!
My mother stood in front of me With a knife in her chest and dying, She’s been waiting for me, She’s been waiting to say goodbye to me.
And on the floor my father lay, His cold corpse, drenched in my own blood.
My five year old sister was dying In her crib, like a fish without water, She opened her mouth gently.
When he had finished his speech, The hall was full of sadness, He stood silent and silent, And the judges read the verdict.
Though you told us the truth, We can’t spare you, For your misdeeds we pass a harsh sentence.
The last two lines of the verse are repeated
From the soundtrack of Andrey Makarevich, album “Pioneer Blatnye Songs”, Sintez Records, 1996.
So we found out that the hooligan song “When I was a little boy” is a mocking parody on the convict song “I perished, little boy”. The parody had been created before the revolution, and then it was reworked and rewritten many times, and as a result the lyrics mentioned the cinema and Charlie Chaplin. Nowadays the song about the boy killer has become children’s folklore, and children get acquainted with it in preschool age.
The penetration of the criminal theme into children’s and teenagers’ folklore is not surprising. In both the pre-war and post-war years, the camp and prison beggars in our courtyards used to attract young people like a magnet. Here is what Kim Ivantsov, a member of the Krasnodon underground, whose memories we have already quoted earlier, writes about his prewar childhood: We treasured our friendship with the older campers who used to gather around the stoke room. You bet! They saw so much and knew so much that was not written about in any book. And how entertainingly, artistically some of them told us about their camp and prison life, which was far from simple and sweet. What scary and amusing stories they sometimes told! What witty expressions they used, what tricks they entertained us with! We avidly listened to the words of those fugitive campers, looked closely at their behavior. There was a lot of romance in the colorful stories that not only beckoned, but made my head spin. We often copied their gestures, the way they talked, the way they spat through their teeth so that the liquid spittle flew from two or three meters away
By the way, in describing one of these criminal educators, nicknamed Pullo, who gave criminal tattoos to Ivantsov himself and his friend Sergey Tyulenin, leader of the Young Guard (in the novel Tyulenev), the author of the memoirs reports
The tattoo master was clearly satisfied with his work. I guess that’s why he suddenly sang:
Pullo’s associates said that he was pulling a dime at the resort. Translated into normal parlance, he did ten years. He was not just a cool thief, but a hoodlum, who belonged to the elite of thieves, to use today’s terms.
I think Klim Mikhailovich (his real name Ivantsov, which he changed to Kim Young Communist International) either forgot something or just made it up for the sake of beautiful writing. An authoritative thief of that time would hardly sing a hooligan street song (if Murka was squeamish, so much less Boychishka). Unless the boys had their ears brushed by some small-minded spaniel. But another thing is important to us: the song When I was a Boy in the 1930s was popular among street fighters.
But the further the story of the naughty boy grew into a real farce. To the victims of hooliganism was added an unhappy village grandmother:
A BLAZING FIREPLACE WAS BURNING
Viktor Petlyura _ _ _ Song lyrics, chords, video _ _ Music _ _ Lyrics
_ _ recommended drawing: (easy version in Am)
Am Dm _ A blazing fireplace was burning, G C _ A young man was on trial, Am Dm _ He was handsome himself, E7 Am _ But he had done many evil things in his life.
Am Dm _ He asked the judges for his word, G C _ And the judges gave him his word. Am Dm _ When he began his tale, E7 Am _ The whole hall was filled with tears
Am Dm _ When I was ten years old G C _ I got away from home, Am Dm _ I learned how to drink and smoke E7 Am _ And got mixed up with criminals.
Am Dm _ When I was twenty years old, G C _ I was around friends I loved, Am Dm _ I was handsome and stronger than them, E7 Am _ And I drank my loot with them.
Am Dm _ Once the village was robbed, G C _ Where people slept peacefully. Am Dm _ We killed everybody E7 Am _ And didn’t even light the lights.
Am Dm _ I waved my knife again and again G C _ And suddenly I heard my name, Am Dm _ I took matches, I lit a fire E7 Am _ Of the judge, what did I see there
Am Dm _ By my dead father’s body G C _ My mother stood there with a knife in her chest Am Dm _ And my six-year-old sister E7 Am _ In her crib, quietly dying
Am Dm _ Judge me, judges, you judge me, G C _ Judge me, judges, as you will. Am Dm _ For my sins E7 Am _ You’re going to pass a terrible judgment
Am Dm _ A shot rang out, he fell, G C _ And my sweetheart’s tears came pouring down: Am Dm _ My darling boy, E7 Am _ Why did you do evil to people??
Am Dm _ A blazing fireplace went out, G C _ A young man was killed, Am Dm _ He was handsome in his own way, E7 Am _ But he did many wicked things in his life. E7 Am _ But he’s done a lot of bad things in his life.
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Young Boy was on trial. Download mp3 for free
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A YOUNG LAD IS ON TRIAL
Makarevich & Kozlov _ _ Song lyrics, chords, video _ _ Music _ _ Lyrics
(easy version in Em) you can play all the verses like the first
Em _ A blazing fireplace was burning, _ _ Am _ A young lad was on trial, Am Em _ He was handsome by himself, H7 Em _ But he did many evil deeds in his life.
Em _ He asked the judges for his word, E7 Am _ And the judges gave him his word. Am Em _ When he began his tale, H7 Em _ The whole hall filled with tears
Em _ When I was ten years old _ _ Am _ I got away from home, Am Em _ I learned to drink and smoke H7 Em _ And got mixed up with criminals.
Em _ When I was twenty years old, E7 Am _ I was among my beloved friends, Am Em _ I was handsome and stronger than them, H7 Em _ And I drank my loot with them.
Em _ Once a village was robbed, _ _ Am _ Where people slept quietly and peacefully. Am Em _ We killed everybody H7 Em _ And we didn’t even light the lights.
Em _ I kept waving the knife again and again E7 Am _ And suddenly I heard my name, Am Em _ I took matches, lit a fire H7 Em _ Of the judge, what I saw there
Em _ By my dead father’s body _ _ Am _ My mother stood there with a knife in her breast, Am Em _ And my six-year-old sister H7 Em _ In her crib dying quietly
Em _ Judge me, judges, you judge me, E7 Am _ Judge me, judges, as you will. Am Em _ For my evil deeds H7 Em _ You bring a terrible verdict
Em _ A shot rang out, he fell, _ _ Am _ and her tears flowed: Am Em _ My dear sweet boy, H7 Em _ Why did you do evil to people??
Em _ A blazing fireplace went out, E7 Am _ A young lad was killed, Am Em _ He was handsome in his own way, H7 Em _ But he’d done a lot of bad things in his life. H7 Em _ But in life did many evil things.
_ A blazing fireplace was burning. Petlura cover
Dm Gm The fireplace was burning, C F They tried a boy that was young, B Gm He was pretty by himself, A7 Dm But he did a lot of bad things in his life. He asked the judges for the floor, And the judges gave him the floor. When he began his tale, The whole hall was filled with tears
“When I was ten I was out of my house, I learned to drink and smoke, I got mixed up with a bunch of criminals. “When I was twenty years old, I was among friends I loved, I was handsome and stronger than them, I learned to rob by force. Once there was a robbery in the village Where people slept quietly and peacefully. We killed everybody And didn’t even turn on the lights. I waved my knife again and again And suddenly I heard my name, I took matches, I lit a fire. O judges, what did I see? By my dead father’s body my mother stood there With a knife in her chest And my six year old sister Died quietly in her crib. Judge me, judges, judge me, Judge me as you wish. For my wickedness you must pass a terrible sentence. “
A shot rang out, he fell, and my sweetheart’s tears welled up “My dear boy, why did you do bad things to people??”
# The blazing fireplace burnt down, A young lad was killed, He was handsome in his own right, But he’d done a lot of evil in his life.
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