Music for Gallant Cossacks (with orchestra of Andre Rieu)

They whirl and gallop as they please
On golden plain bereft of trees
Their coming hoof beats rouse up dread
The blood and tales of many dead
Who dared to raise a hope so bold
As seize their precious plain of gold.
The charge, the dance so much the same
With hearts poured out in patriot flame.
The women back at Camp are sure
Their men beat Russian hearts so pure.
Black boots to flash while fiddles play
And lethal kicks subdued today.
Clarinet squeezes sadder notes
See Volga River crossing boats.
The horses rest
The men pull oars.
The women bosses
Call out chores.
And count the gold
Through fingers glad.
Their Cossack warriors
Not half bad.