Смерть пармезана ("Parmesean's Death")
Lyrics: Андрей "Орлуша" Орлов (Andrei "Orlusha" Orlov) - http://v-n-zb.livejournal.com/8472389.html
Singer: Заза Заалишвили (Zaza Zaalishvili)
Filk of Смерть комсомольца ("Death of a Young Communist League member"), by Николай Кооль (Nikolai Kool), 1924: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SOxFqSKtUa8
Which in turn was from Там вдали за рекой ("In the distance, by the river"): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QKFREM_9EQU
Original: https://www.facebook.com/zaza.zaalishvili.79/videos/vb.100007367019236/1630922173830001
Context: https://www.metafilter.com/152234/Next-Step-Cheese-Subs-No-real-homebrew-submarines-In-the-Baltic
More context: https://plus.google.com/+YonatanZunger/posts/NJtGZdKmR4M
John Oliver's version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RkmKdaP3i5c

Translation (by Sai):

In the distance by the river, bright ovens burn;
the fearsome border guards can't sleep.
But not knowing of that, the parmsean squad
was moving to the Russian border.

There walked salmon and cheeses, their footsteps unheard;
they walked not in step, without jokes or songs.
So the enemy wouldn't track them using dogs,
in the front walked a Roquefort mold.

They walked across the border removing their labels;
documents forged, as needed.
Suddenly, in the distance, by the river flashed bayonets —
it was an Agricultural Department ambush.

Children of the Alps, Pyrenees, Barcelona and Lausanne
disrupted the hiking and equestrian operation.
But the fearless hoary old cheese
first went into the fighting column.

Looking around his Camembert army,
he smiled brightly and radiantly;
and exclaimed, "There's no fear to die in battle
for an Italian smuggler!"

And in the last, decisive, cruel battle
a sanctioned ton went forth.
The Iberian ham perked his head up
(even though hams have no heads).

And suddenly the paunchy officer furrowed his eyebrows
someone timidly reported to him:
from the massacre walked the old parmesan
and his radio operator, Mozzarella.

The sharpest fighter climbed up on a birch,
looked around at everything with binoculars.
To find the parmesan, they cut down the whole forest.
In any case, they seized him - with his girlfriend.

Torture by grater and knives, without words he endured
(from the nature of cheeses, to be silent);
only in the end, he answered the last question,
smiling without fear, in disgust:

"What did you ask? How I would like to die?
Not at the hands of those who have a brain concussion.
I want that I could be grated
by an old woman on her miserable dinner!

I'll tell you, that the ham asked that I let you know,
so that you in the Kremlin would tell of it:
he dreamed that a volunteer would bring him
to all the homeless at the Kazansky railway station!"

"It's a pity that your people have nowhere to run from you" -
so said Parmesan before his death,
and with a smile, he stepped in the kindled oven,
without asking for mercy, believe me.

From hunger, cold, prison and bags
by tradition, we didn't renounce ourselves,
and in the distance, by the river, smoke was rising,
on the border, produce were burned…

(ETA: thanks to +Yonatan Zunger for the extra context,  +Dmitriy Bykov for the pointer to the original original song, and +Victor Zverovich for help fixing the translation)
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