You have battalions, squadrons
Batteries of machineguns
You also have the biggest cannons
My Michel, what do you want more? (1)
You have two dozen monarchs
Minions and priests, an army
So you can blessedly sleep
My Michel, what do you want more?
You have countless paragraph in law
Your prisons never go empty
There you can sleep in protective custody
My Michel, what do you want more?
You pay the most highest taxes
Your squires, labour themselves
To increase the price for your bread
My Michel, what do you want more?
You have swede-beets and acorns
And If you want more
You can caress your belly
My Michel, what do you want more?
You're allowed to exercise and march
Crisscross round the barrack yard
And then you perish for your emperor
My Michel, what do you want more?