That with our few,
We shall a victory gain.
Climb up our foes,
Over the wall,
Deep bit the swords,
Fiercely the cannon spout fire;
Yet 'neath our blows,
Downward they fall,
Traitorous hordes,
In torment and blood to expire.
That with our few,
We shall a victory gain.
Climb up our foes,
Over the wall,
Deep bit the swords,
Fiercely the cannon spout fire;
Yet 'neath our blows,
Downward they fall,
Traitorous hordes,
In torment and blood to expire.