This time in our regular column we will talk about the legendary thieves' song - “You was a prostitute" The song is known in many versions (we present one of them, in addition to the more or less canonical one) and was considered for a long time a work of thieves' folklore. That is, it was, as it were, “folk”.
But later genre researchers discovered its author. This is Mikhail Demin, a writer, a former thief in law (it turns out that thieves can be former!), who spent many years in Stalin’s camps, which he later wrote about in French emigration autobiographical novel"Thieves". There he also cites part of the canonical text of the song. However, unfortunately full text Demin could not be restored. Therefore, it can still be considered half-Demin, half-folk.
“DESTINY PLAYS A BIG ROLE IN EVERYTHING”
As already mentioned, part of the song appeared in the novel “Blatnoy”. The novel is interesting. I liked the phrase from there: “In all textbooks on the history of the party, for example, Lenin’s “inkwell” made of bread and filled with milk is mentioned. Now the milk is in Russian prisons You won’t see them anymore - not those times! “But the prisons themselves stand indestructible, they will exist forever, which means this secret will not fade away, will reach distant descendants and will be useful to many.”
In fact, there is now milk in prisons. But there is no question that they still stand indestructible. In fact, the song is given in the book almost completely, only without the last two paragraphs. So, nevertheless, Demin’s authorship can be considered undoubted. However, the former lawman did not come up with the song, so to speak, from scratch. It is composed to the tune of an earlier criminal song “Fate” (“Fate in everything big role plays...").
I DRINKED, HEATED...
The plot of the song is not complicated. The guy met a prostitute, in whose eyes “a drunken wind was rushing.” She made him drunk with vodka, tricked him into feelings and money. A new acquaintance directed the “bastard” onto the criminal path. As they say, “I went down the thieves’ path.”
As a result, the boy was tied up and he ended up “kicha” on long years. As usual, he was thirsty new meeting and revenge. Dreams Come True. That's basically it. It should be noted that the theme “it’s all the woman’s fault” is found in many classic criminal songs. One “Murka” is worth something. There's something here from biblical motifs. If it weren't for the curious Eve, people would still be living in paradise. Such a moral.
A LITTLE ABOUT DEMIN
It is worth saying a few words about Mikhail Demin. His real name is Georgy Evgenievich Trifonov (years of life: 1926-1984). He was repeatedly sentenced to imprisonment in camps. Since 1968 he lived in exile. Started out as a poet. IN autobiographical trilogy“Blatnoy” (1978), “Taiga Tramp” (1978), “Red Devil” (1987) talks about being in the camps and exile from the point of view of a criminal. A professional criminal, thief, murderer and thieves nicknamed Chuma, he served a couple of sentences, published several poetry books, and then, having gone to visit his relatives in Paris, became a defector.
Stanislav Kunyaev writes about his friendship with him in the first part of his book “Poetry. Fate. Russia":
“I returned to Moscow from Taishet in 1960 and began working in the Smena magazine. There I met Misha Demin, Mishanya, a stooped, prematurely balding man with the habits of a professional thieves, who had a whole heap of funny, obscene and sad stories, associated with the life of thieves, with transit points in Siberia and the East, with Norilsk and Taishetlag. While still working in Taishet, I knew that somewhere in Abakan, at the other end of the Taishet-Abakan highway under construction, there lived a poet with a mysterious and romantic fate: we had already started publishing in the Siberian press, had heard about each other even before meeting in Moscow and met like old acquaintances in the corridors of the capital’s magazine, where Mishanya got a job... He was an open, contact and unceremonious person.
- Old man, hello! I heard about you in Abakan, well, let’s go somewhere, we’ll accept one hundred and fifty for our native Mother Siberia!
Mishanya was a cousin famous writer Yuri Trifonov - their fathers, Don Cossacks, were siblings and both were very prominent military leaders of the times Civil War occupied high positions during Stalin's time, both married Jewish women... In 1937, one was shot, the other died of a heart attack.
Purposeful Yuri Trifonov became a writer in the post-war period and became one of the youngest laureates Stalin Prize for the novel “Students” - the son of an “enemy of the people”! — and the tramp and adventurer Mishanya followed the “thieves’ line,” but became addicted to poetry in the camps, and that’s why we met in “Smena.” For several years in a row we lived ordinary life provincial poets in Moscow, asserted themselves, drank, made friends, in a word, lived like people... But suddenly it turned out that Mishani, either on the Cossack or on the maternal side, had a cousin in Paris.”
Demin, in fact, soon fled to Paris, which he really liked. Interesting fate in a person, you can’t say anything.
“YOU WERE A PROSTITUTE”
You were a prostitute, I met you. You were sitting under the willow tree in the square. A drunken wind rushed in your eyes, And the cigarette smoked in the wind. You came up to me with a dancing gait and said like a thieve: “Let’s go!” And an hour later she gave me vodka and stole my heart like a ruble. After all, before you I was not yet a urkagan, You turned the boy into a urkagan. You introduced us to the seasoning" and the revolver, The hand did not waver to go to the "wet". But then one day they tied us all up - There were five of us lucky ones." We were fast asleep and knew nothing. When the bagpipes stared us in the face. wheels "" with a creak I exchanged a prison jacket for a pea coat. Over these eight years I have suffered a lot of grief, And more than one hair has shed on me. And here again, again we met with you. You are still the same as eight. years ago, With such burning and blue eyes, Again you attract my gaze to you.
* Seasoning - knife.
** Ogolets - in the military and in the first post-war years That's what young criminals were called; later they began to call desperate youngsters that way.
*** Wheels - shoes, shoes.
“YOU WERE A BICK. WHEN I MET YOU..."
(One version)
You were a bixa when I met you, You were carried by sailors in their port. A drunken wind was rushing in your eyes, And the cigarette was smoking in your mouth. You came up to me with a dancing gait and said to me like a thieve: “Well, let’s go!” And late in the evening she made me drunk with vodka and took possession of my heart like a ruble. Understand me, I was not a urkagan - You made me a urkagan. You introduced me to prison and a revolver, -. The hand did not waver for “wet” matters. One day we were wandering around the city, and you put us on the trail of the frogs. My friends were pinned to the wall with bullets, And I ended up in the kitchen for many years!
GRAY SUIT, SCREAKING BOOTS...
I exchanged them for prison robes.
For eight years I have suffered a lot of grief,
Because of you, my cheap girl, I suffered.
And so I get off at the station again,
With its burning beautiful eyes
You again attract my gaze to you.
You came up to me and immediately said so,
You told me like a criminal: - Well, let's go.
And late in the evening she gave me vodka
And she took possession of my heart like a ruble.
After all, I have never been a hooligan,
And you made me a bully
You introduced me to raspberries and the revolver
And you brought me to prison.
That's it.
Ships came into our harbor. Perm: Book, 1996, under the title. "Prison." Variant of line 2: “I traded it for prison wards.”
Composed to the tune of an earlier thieves' song "Fate" ("Fate plays a big role in everything..."). There are a lot of options, not all of them mention “gray suit” and “boots (usually wheels) with a squeak." The main plot: a girl drinks a guy with vodka, he becomes a monster, commits a dirty case and ends up in prison "for many years." Sometimes he returns and takes revenge.
Mikhail Demin in the novel "Blatnoy", written in Paris in 1969-72, calls himself the author of this song and twice depicts its singing in the Kolyma camps. The first time - in the fall of 1947 at Karpunka (quarantine barracks for Magadan transfer) during the thieves' trial:
The suit is gray, the wheels are creaking,
I exchanged my pea jacket for a prison jacket.
(Demin M. Blatnoy. M.: Panorama, 1991. P. 249)
The second time - in the BUR (high security barracks) of the same transfer in April 1948. The criminal Devka, with whom Demin was sent to Kolyma in 1947, sings in solitary confinement:
You were a prostitute
I met you
And the cigarette smoked in the wind...
See also the song “Yellow Shoes” - a mixture of “Grey Suit” and “I Met Misha at a Club Party”.
YOU WERE A PROSTITUTE...
From the collection of Fima Zhiganets "Blatnaya Lyrics", Rostov-on-Don, "Phoenix", 2001, p. 114-116.
The song is known in many versions and has long been considered a work of thieves' folklore. In fact, it has an author. This is Mikhail Demin, a writer, a former “legal thief”, who spent many years in Stalin’s camps, about which he later, in French emigration, wrote the autobiographical novel “Blatnoy”.
***
There he also cites part of the “canonical text” of the song, which is used in this collection. However, it was not possible to restore the full text of Demin, and below is still a folklore version, where only a few verses can be considered the author’s edition (the first and second, as well as the verse “Gray Suit”).
You were a prostitute, I met you, (1)
You were sitting under the willow tree in the square.
A drunken wind was rushing in your eyes
And the cigarette smoked in the wind.
And she invited me like a criminal: “Well, let’s go!”
And she took possession of my heart like a ruble.
You turned the boy into a monster.
You introduced seasoning (2) and revolver,
Go to the wet (3) hand did not waver.
But then one day they tied us all up -
When the Volyns (5) stared us in the face. (6)
Gray suit, wheels (7) squeaky
I exchanged my pea jacket for a prison jacket. (8)
And here again, again we met with you,
You're still the same as you were eight years ago
With such burning and fucking eyes,
Again you attract my gaze to you. (9)
The last two lines are repeated
(1) Option -
"I remember the day I met you,
You stood leaning on the bridge.
You were sitting under the willow tree in the square.
And the cigarette smoked in my mouth.”
Also a variant of the first line - “You were a bixa when I met you.”
(2) Seasoning - knife.
(3) Wet, wet business - murder.
(4) 0golet - in the war and post-war 40s, this was the name given to young criminals, reckless thugs; later - just desperate youngsters.
(5) Volyn - pistol.
(6) Option - “When the frogs took us by surprise.”
(7) Wheels - shoes, shoes.
(8) Option - “I swapped it for prison pajamas.”“Pajamas” is the name given to the robe worn by a prisoner in a special regime colony; here: the prisoners’ clothes are striped, like pajamas (that’s why such prisoners are also called “stripes” or “zebras”).
(9) In other versions, this verse is sung differently, and is followed by several more:
“And eight years later I broke free,
I came to look into your fucking face.
So tell me, Maryana, in order,
Why was it necessary to melt the oglts?
Then the shot rang out, Maryana staggered
And then she quietly fell onto the sand.
She fell, her eyes closed -
There will be no more melting of lumps.”
Maryana, marukha - girl, woman; melt - betray (old jargon).
OPTIONS (4)
1. Maryana
I remember the day I met you,
You stood leaning on the bridge,
And quietly she told me: “Let’s go!”
And an hour later she gave me vodka
After all, before you I was not a hurricane,
But you made me a hurricane,
The hand did not tremble to go to the wet.
But one day they tied us all up,
There were seven of us lucky guys,
We were fast asleep and didn't know anything
When the cops took us by surprise.
Gray suit, squeaky wheels
I exchanged it for a prison robe,
Over these eight years I have seen a lot of grief,
And more than one hair on me has shed.
And you are the same as eight years ago,
A shot rang out, Maryana staggered
And quietly fell on the sand,
You won't melt any more lumps!
The last two lines of the verses are repeated
From the phonogram of Alexey Kozlov and Andrey Makarevich, album “Pioneer criminal songs”, Sintez Records, 1996.
2. You were a bixu when I met you...
You were a bixu when I met you,
You were dragged by sailors in their port.
A drunken wind rushed in your eyes,
And the cigarette smoked in my mouth.
You came up to me with a dancing gait
And in a criminal way she told me: “Well, let’s go!”
And late in the evening she gave me vodka
Understand me, I was not a hurricane -
You made me a hurricane.
You introduced me to prison and the revolver,
And you put the frogs on the trail.
And I ended up in kichman for many years!
Like on Deribasovskaya... Songs of courtyards and streets. Book 1 / Comp. B. Khmelnitsky and Y. Yaess, eds. V. Kavtorin, St. Petersburg: Penaty, 1996. pp. 77-79.
3. You were a thieves when I met you...
You were a thieves when I met you,
You were dragged by sailors in their port,
A drunken wind rushed in your eyes,
And the cigarette smoked in my mouth.
You came up to me with a dancing gait
And in a criminal way she told me: “Well, let’s go,”
And an hour later she gave me vodka
And she took possession of my heart like a ruble.
Understand me, I was not a hurricane,
You made me a hurricane
You introduced me to raspberries and revolvers,
The hand did not tremble towards wet matters.
One day we were wandering around the city,
And you put the cops on the trail.
My friends were pinned to the wall with bullets,
And I ended up in kichman for many years.
Almazov B. Not only music for words.... Memoirs with guitar.
M.: Tsentrpoligraf; LLC "MiM-Delta", 2003. pp. 397-398.
4. We were five lucky kids...
And I went all out.
You were a girl when I met you,
A drunken wind rushed in your eyes,
You walked proudly in fashionable heels.
And the cigarette smoked in his teeth.
You approached me with a careless gait,
She took my hand and said to me: “Let’s go!”
And late in the evening she gave me vodka
And she took possession of my heart and the ruble.
After all, I have never been a hurricane,
And you made me a hurricane.
You introduced me to raspberries and revolvers.
As I walked into the wet, my hand did not tremble.
Gray suit, squeaky shoes
I exchanged it for a government jacket.
Over these eight years I have suffered a lot of grief,
And more than one hair on me has shed.
I unwound the deadline, like a larva, swelling,
There are hard bunks and three hundred grams of rations,
And only about what happened, often remembering, -
This is the life that is reserved for thieves.
And eight years later I broke free,
And you are the same as eight years ago.
So tell me, Maryana, in order,
Since when have you been melting lumps?
So why are you standing there, blushing and turning pale?
Because of you, bitch, I suffered!
Run to the police station, but you won’t have time.
And the Finnish knife drove under her heart.
There was a groan, Maryana swayed
And quietly fell onto the sand.
She fell, her eyes closed.
There will be no more melting of lumps.
There were five of us lucky kids.
And all the traders had a profit.
Four of us reached the towers,
And I rewinded to the fullest.
Another mixed song - a verse from “The Gray Suit” and a verse from “Crusks”:
The suit is brand new, the wheels are squeaky
The suit is brand new, the wheels are squeaky
I exchanged it for a prison sentence.
During these eight years I met a lot of grief
And not a single hair on me has faded.
And the weather is good outside,
The new moon is shining through the window.
And I’ve only been sitting for four years, -
My soul hurts - I really want to go home.
Songs of prisoners / Comp. V. Pentyukhov. Krasnoyarsk: OFSET, 1995.
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