Djordje Balasevic
Miscellaneous
Only Son
An old thing in Novi Becej...
Glory is for the Lady...
You don't know my Nina...
There are no children, so they love me like a mother...
Pridvece rushes to the church...
He sulks after the late Strika...
And everyone is worried about making me go for a walk...< br/>I am poison for matchmakers...
I blink the eyes of the sleepy...
They sigh like yawns...
They push with their elbows... Lips part...
For one, a dowry, a mill that grinds...
For another, a chain and a half of land...
For the third, a figure so big that they just slouch...
Run away, girls from the main street ...
When the only son passes by... Stikla stumbles...
Your hooks are small...
Stuck sails along the corse, which is rarely caught...
Goodbye Totica , little bastards...
Hungarian quarrelsome women... Heartbreakers...
You are real beauties...
Oh God, you lack other guys...
I saw a pendzer in Beckerek...
And in it... On top of the tulip...
At that moment it blossomed...
A strand of ginger shines... Like a grouse's wing...
No until I don't have any more...
I dream of soil from a pot...
I, grandma, don't need any more of that soil...
Let it taste the hor torokus...
I am grandma's only son... Mother to all...
Whatever anyone tries...
I will take her, so that she only has a blouse...
Goodbye Sremica -inflammation...
And Bacvanka... Selection of crafts...
You are fine pupils...
But I can already see... I am a pupil from Banat...< br/>