- Ooh, Vanya, just look at them clowns, Their mouths look as if they need bandaging, Theyíre so made up, arenít they, Vanya, And theyíve got voice like alkies. And that one looks like my brother, A drunkard just like him, Iím right, arenít I, No, go on, have a look, go on, have a look, Iím right, Vanya! - Listen, Zina, hands off brother, I donít care what heís like, heís still family. And youíre all made up yourself, Just watch what you say to me! Why donít you quit fretting And get yourself down to the shop? No? Well, Iíll go myself, Move yourself, Zina. - Ooh, Vanya, just look at them dwarfs, Thatís jersey theyíve got on, not cheviot. Down at our garment factory Weíd have a job making that up. But honest, Vanya, Iím telling you, All your friends are such layabouts, First thing in the morning they start drinking That rotgut. - My friends might not wear smart raincoats, But they donít make their families go short. They drink that filth to save money, And if they do start in the morning, they pay their way. And who are you to talk, Zina. Once you had a boyfriend from the tire factory And he used to drink gasoline. Remember that, Zina? - Ooh, Vanya, just look, little parrots, A-a-a-gh, itís going to make me scream honest. And whoís that wearing that short vest? Can I have one like that, Vanya? Vanya, I bet you could get me one Down at the street corner, couldnít you? What díyou mean, give over, itís all you ever say, Itís not nice, Vanya.                                                                                
© Gerald Stanton Smith. Translation, 1984