Слова В  Лебедева-Кумача

                                                                                                                                               Музыка И. Дунаевского

                                                                                  ПЕСНЯ О  РОДИНЕ

 

                                                                                           Широка страна моя родная,

                                                                                            Много в ней лесов, полей и рек,

                                                                                            Я другой такой страны не знаю,

                                                                                            Где так вольно дышит человек.

 

                                                                                            От Москвы до самых до окраин,

                                                                                            С южных гор до северных морей

                                                                                            Человек проходит как хозяин

                                                                                            Необъятной  Родины своей.

 

                                                                                             Всюду жизнь и вольно и широко

                                                                                             Точно Волга полная течет,                  

                                                                                             Молодым везде у нас дорога,

                                                                                             Старикам везде у нас почет.

                   

                                                                                                      Припев:

                                                                                              Широка страна моя родная,

                                                                                              Много в ней лесов, полей и рек,

                                                                                              Я другой такой страны не знаю,

                                                                                               Где так вольно дышит человек

 

                                                                                               Наши нивы глазом не обшаришь,

                                                                                               Не упомнишь наших городов,

                                                                                               Наше слово гордое – «товарищ»

                                                                                               Нам дороже всех красивых слов.

 

                                                                                               С этим словом мы повсюду дома,

                                                                                               Нет для нас ни черных, ни цветных,

                                                                                               Это слово каждому знакомо,

                                                                                               С ним везде находим  мы родных.

                                                                                                         Припев.

                                                                                               За столом никто у нас не лишний,

                                                                                                По заслугам каждый награжден,

                                                                                                Золотыми буквами мы пишем

                                                                                                Всенародный Сталинский закон.

 

                                                                                                 Этих слов величие и славу

                                                                                                 Никакие годы не сотрут:

                                                                                                 «Человек всегда имеет право

                                                                                                 На ученье, отдых и на труд».

 

                                                                                                             Припев.

                                                                                                  Над страной весенний ветер веет,

                                                                                                  С каждым днем все радостнее жить.

                                                                                                  И никто на свете не умеет  

                                                                                                  Лучше нас смеяться и любить.

 

                                                                                                   Но сурово брови мы насупим,

                                                                                                   Если враг захочет нас сломать

                                                                                                   Как невесту Родину мы любим,

                                                                                                   Бережем, как ласковую мать.

 

                                                                                                              Припев.                                                          

                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                             Слова   А. Д’Актиля

                                                                                                                             Музыка  И. Дунаевского

 

                                                                                     МАРШ  ЭНТУЗИАСТОВ

                                                                              

                                                                                                    В буднях великих строек

                                                                                                    В веселом грохоте, в огнях и звонах

                                                                                                    Здравствуй, страна героев,

                                                                                                    Страна мечтателей, страна ученых!

                                                                                         Ты по степи, ты по лесу,

                                                                                         Ты к тропикам,  ты к полюсу,

                                                                                         Легла любимая, необозримая,

                                                                                         Несокрушимая моя.

 

                                                                                                       Припев:

                                                                                          Нам нет преград ни в море, ни на суше,

                                                                                          Нам не страшны  ни льды, ни облака.

                                                                                          Пламя души моей, знамя страны своей

                                                                                          Мы пронесем через миры и века!

 

                                                                                                        Нам ли стоять на месте!

                                                                                                        В своих дерзаниях всегда мы правы.

                                                                                                        Труд наш есть дело чести,

                                                                                                        Есть подвиг доблести и подвиг славы.

 

                                                                                           К станку ли ты склоняешься,

                                                                                           В скалу ли ты врубаешься,

                                                                                           Мечта прекрасная, еще не ясная

                                                                                           Уже зовет тебя вперед.

 

                                                                                                        Припев.

                                                                                           Создан наш мир на славу,

                                                                                           За годы сделаны дела столетий,

                                                                                            Счастье берем по праву

                                                                                            И жарко любим и поем, как дети.

 

                                                                                                            И звезды наши алые

                                                                                                            Сверкают небывалые

                                                                                                            Над всеми странами, над океанами

                                                                                                            Осуществленною мечтой.

 

                                                                                                         Припев.

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