aa gaye maske wale
are maska lagane wale
o gokul ke gwale, makkhan ke matwale
taja makkhan laaye hain pyare
le thoda sa kha le
o gokul ke gwale, makkhan ke matwale
taja makkhan laaye hain pyare
le thoda sa kha le

krishan kanhiya re bansi bajaiya
beda paar laga de
jo apne dushma hain unko
haridwar pahuncha de
are krishan kanhiya re bansi bajaiya
beda paar laga de
jo apne dushma hain unko
haridwar pahuncha de
aaye hain tere dware, ham dukhiyare
o nandlale
o gokul ke gwale, makkhan ke matwale
taja makkhan laaye hain pyare
le thoda sa kha le
are kha le kha le
are tu bhi kha le

paap ke matke bharte hain
kuchh log yaha pe khate
govinda giridhar gopala
fod de unke matke
are paap ke matke bharte hain
kuchh log yaha pe khate
govinda giridhar gopala
fod de unke matke
baja de unki ghanti, karte hain jo dhndhe kale
o gokul ke gwale, makkhan ke matwale
taja makkhan laaye hain pyare
le thoda sa kha le
jamuna ke tat par, dhobiya ke khat pat

bansi bajaiya chhod ke bansi
apna chakr ghuma de
dusht jano ko naksha
mahabharat ka dikhala de
bansi bajaiya chhod ke bansi
apna chakr ghuma de
dusht jano ko naksha
mahabharat ka dikhala de
ham tere arjun hain, apna rath hain tere hawale
o gokul ke gwale, makkhan ke matwale
taja makkhan laaye hain pyare
le thoda sa kha le
are o gokul ke gwale, makkhan ke matwale
taja makkhan laaye hain pyare
le thoda sa kha le

The butter-slicked ones arrive,
the smooth talkers descend.
O, milkmen of Gokul, drunk on cream,
fresh churned butter, a treasure to lend.
Take a little, and eat, my friend.
O, milkmen of Gokul, drunk on cream,
fresh churned butter, a treasure to lend.
Take a little, and eat.

Krishna, the flute player,
ferry us across the tide.
Those who are our foes,
guide them to the river's side.
Krishna, the flute player,
ferry us across the tide.
Those who are our foes,
guide them to the river's side.
We come to your door, laden with woes,
O, son of Nanda!
O, milkmen of Gokul, drunk on cream,
fresh churned butter, a treasure to lend.
Take a little, and eat.
Come, eat!
Eat also, you.

Vessels of sin they fill,
some are the thorns in our side.
Govinda, the cowherd, the protector,
shatter their vessels wide.
Vessels of sin they fill,
some are the thorns in our side.
Govinda, the cowherd, the protector,
shatter their vessels wide.
Ring their bells, those who deal in dark trades.
O, milkmen of Gokul, drunk on cream,
fresh churned butter, a treasure to lend.
Take a little, and eat.
On the Yamuna's shore, a washerman's clash…

Flute player, lay down your flute,
spin your discus of might.
Show the wicked ones,
the map of Mahabharat's fight.
Flute player, lay down your flute,
spin your discus of might.
Show the wicked ones,
the map of Mahabharat's fight.
We are your Arjuna, our chariot, your keep.
O, milkmen of Gokul, drunk on cream,
fresh churned butter, a treasure to lend.
Take a little, and eat.
O, milkmen of Gokul, drunk on cream,
fresh churned butter, a treasure to lend.
Take a little, and eat.