Glory and love to the men of old, Their sons may copy their virtues bold; Courage in heart and a sword in hand, Both ready to fight and ready to die for Fatherland! Who needs bidding to dare by a trumpet blown? Who lacks pity to spare when the field is won? Who would fly from a foe if alone or lost? And boast he was true, as coward might do when peril is past? Glory and love to the men of old! Their sons may copy their virtues bold, Courage in heart and a sword in hand, All ready to fight for Fatherland. Now to home again we come, the long and fiery strife of battle over; Rest is pleasant after toil as hard as ours beneath a stranger sun Many a maiden fair is waiting here to greet her truant soldier lover, And many a heart will fail and brow grow pale to hear the tale of cruel peril he has run We are at home. Glory and love to the men of old; Their sons may copy their virtues bold! Courage in heart and a sword in hand, All ready to fight for Fatherland! All ready to fight, or ready to die for Fatherland!
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