The cockerel

The cockerel The cat on hunting will leave, and the cockerel in an izba will tidy up everything, the floor will purely sweep, will swell up on a pole, songs sings and for a cat waits.

The fox ran somehow, uslykhat as the rooster of a song sings, she wanted to try cock meat.

Here she sat down under a window and started singing: Cockerel, cockerel, Gold comb, Vyglyani in a window I will give you to peas.

The cockerel looked out, and she him is tsaptsarap grabbed and incurred.

The cockerel was frightened, cried: The fox for a dark, for high mountains bears me!

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