Der Schnitter Tod [English translation]

There is a reaper they call Death

Has power from our great God

He's whetting his blade now

It's sharper already

Soon he will gash through us

We will have to suffer it

Beware, sweet little flower

What still stands green and freshly yet

Tomorrow it's mowed away

The precious narcissus

The primrose of England

The proud hyacinth

The Turkish capped lily

Beware, sweet little flower

Many hundredthousand lots untold

Fall down under his hook

Red roses, white lilies

Both he will erase

You crowns imperial1

You will not be spared

Beware, sweet little flower

O Kaiser, King, o Prince and Lord

Fear ye the reaper well

This bringer of heartgloom

The longer, the fonder

Makes all to come down

Treats no one as special

Beware, sweet little flower

He makes no difference at all

Takes everything in one blow

Pope, King and Kaiser

Princes, palaces, mansions

Here they lie lumped together

With barely a name left

Beware, sweet little flower

[Stanza 1]

1. as in the flower