We set forth out into the world
With resounding, matching steps,
And from our father's house we take along
Only courage and a merry spirit.

We need neither farm nor field,
Nor that which others prize;
We have chosen only one thing for ourselves,
And that one thing is the sword.

We do not trade that for anything,
Not for a hammer and not for a plow,
We march quickly past those two things,
But not past the inn.

There we rest as soldiers do,
Even if it be upon a hard stump,
And we wash the dust from our beards
With a refreshing drink.

Thus we bear hardship and trials,
And are rich in merriness;
For whatever may befall us,
That befalls us together.

But when the fatherland calls to battle,
To battle for house and hearth,
Then we are all immediately at hand
And swing our swords high.