Through the winter's cold and famine,
from the fields and from the towns
at the call of Comrade Lenin,
there arose the Partisans.
To the East swept forward the Partisans
through the swamps and on to the heights,
to attack and take Primorye,
the last stronghold of the Whites.
Battle-scarred and faded banners
fluttered bravely on before,
but far deeper was the crimson
of the recent wounds they bore.
That great day will ne'er be forgotten,
nor will lose its high renown,
when the Partisan Red-fighters
broke through and took the town.
They destroyed the White Guard forces
and to hell the bandits they hurled,
and on the Pacific Ocean
the workers' flag unfurled.