Hair, hair, Ferenc Jóska's winter-summer blanket
Song
1. Hey, hair, Ferenc Jóska's winter-summer blanket, ; Oh, but I pulled, I pulled on myself a lot! ; But now I'm out of it, ; That fur-clad recruit is pulling, pulling. ; ; 2. What's the long summer for?* ; He's not even a young man who goes to see whores. ; And I only go to see a brown girl, ; Hey, hair, I'll buy her again sometime.**