The bell rings vehemently
The post will vary the while to granny
She is rushing to the wicket
And she is looking forward to a white letter

She is taking by the handle and opening the wicket
She is beholding the postman Radek at the doorstep

'Radek, little Radek, what do you have for me?
You will give me a letter from my daughter, won't you?'
'Oh, granny, be sure that I will,' he answers kindly
He is reaching for a letter in the satchel and giving it to her

He gives thanks for thanks
But suddenly he is asking her,
'Granny, I have a little request for you,
I want to poop, can I come in?'

'Of course - come in.'

In the latrine he has put out a knife from the satchel
He was so fascinated
That he puckered the eyebrows
Now he's stealing to the cottage
And ragely stabbing the granny
The blood is splashing on tiles

On the stove and the baskets
He enjoyed her as a swine
What will he do with this filth?
As usual,
He is jacking off
He must also catch
He must also catch the morning post.