Rex Regi Rebellis [English translation]

Cold autumn rain, fields new-plowed

A sludgy bane, far from home

The time has come, our troops march on

A silent hum, a cheerful song

The snowy north is our fatherland

There, our hearth crackles on the windy beaches

There, next to the sword, our sinewy arms grew

There, our chests burned with passion for our faith and our honour

We watered our cold horse in the Neva river

He swam over the Vistula river as happy as ever

He carried our steel of revenge over the Rhine river

He drank from the emperors bowl out of the Danube river

And if we ride over plains and vales

Then fire sparks from the hoofs

Then our strike hails down like a hammer

Then the world starts to shine before the future

In morning mist, dark lines stand still

With clenched fists, against her will

At the break of dawn, our forces assemble

A distant horn, soon cannons will rumble

A shroud of smoke, an iron breeze

A man of hope, hell unleashed

A glove of steel (sweeps the) front line down

A white lone steed, a fallen crown

The snowy north is our fatherland

There, our hearth crackles on the windy beaches

There, next to the sword, our sinewy arms grew

There, our chests burned with passion for our faith and our honour

Our comfort to you who sigh in darkness and shackles

We're coming, we're coming, we'll free you

There are no panting slaves in our frozen north

We ride free into the fields for the words of God

At Breitenfeld we conquered over Pappenheim

We wrote our names on the chain from Cronenberg

We burned our grey beards at the battle of Rain

We bled with royal blood at the battle of Lützen

And if we ride far away from our northern path

Towards shining grapes and bleeding wounds

Then the message of victory will rattle from the trumpets

March on, brave forces! Onwards! God is with us

Out of the dust, past our ranks

Came a mount without a master

Blood-stained it strode all alone

Each one knew The Oak had fallen

Strike against the son of north! 1

Ride for revenge, we march again for the King and the mighty

Feel no fatigue, your wounds will heal when we've slain the foe

So greedy

1. This was the battlecry of the Hakkapeliitta during the Thirty Years' War