Walking across Russia ain’t no walk in the park,
Swords in the sun, torches glow in the dark,
Cinnamon House holds a spark, keeps me going on and on.
Twenty-seven soldiers all dressed up just like me,
Each with white boots stretching up to their knee,
Red shirt, white X, gray pants, marching on and on.
Cradled in my hand I have a triangle pouch,
Some ginger and some cloves inside a cinnamon house,
When every man shrinks like a mouse I keep marching on and on
Decorated soldier in Napoleon’s war,
Trying to remember what I registered for,
Boots crunch down on an icicle floor walking on and on.
A soldier’s life it isn’t what I thought it would be,
It’s lonely and it’s cold and it’s big as the sea.
It’s blue as the sky and it just keeps stretching on and on.
Sometimes I retreat into my cinnamon house
I count out all my cloves and pull my ginger root out
I know some day I’ll walk away from this life, I’ll walk on and one.
Someday soon I know it’s going to come to an end
I’ll be sitting by the fire with a thousand new friends
Mulling hot wieners with a dozen new men shaking on and on
I signed up for the army just to travel around,
Hoping a new market for my spice could be found,
Hoping I could introduce my cinnamon house all around the world and on.
Friend let me take you into my cinnamon house,
Here the fire is burning and it never goes out,
Two men sitting with their dicks hanging out shaking on and on.
Cloves are really good for when you’re kissing a friend,
Gentlemen let ginger make you horny again,
A cinnamon stick through your heart keeps you pumping on and on.
Hello friends and welcome to my cinnamon house
The frozen soldiers marching through the tundra can lounge
The men on your left and the man on your right keep you shaking on and on.