A peasant’s son, sent to the Eastern Front,
The mechanic of a tank, who rose to the commander’s rank.
In an army ill-equipped, its’ leadership criticised,
He was wounded in combat, long-term hospitalised.

Made to defend the motherland,
Not for the terrorist’s hand.
The politicians are to blame,
No gun was fired in his name.

So he begun, his quest for the perfect gun,
Countless designs, commitment, untold time.
Had to be simple to use, simple to strip down
An all-weather weapon, efficient on the battleground.

Made to defend the motherland,
Not for the terrorist’s hand.
The politicians are to blame,
No gun was fired in his name.

His country he served, with his body of work,
Didn’t seek financial gain, despite his success and fame.
There now stands a museum, dedicated to his life,
Man is born to protect his family, children and wife.

Made to defend the motherland,
Not for the terrorist’s hand,
The politicians are to blame,
No gun was fired in his name.

No gun was fired in his name.