No laurels grow in Russian snow,
Southwards I must look to earn 'em
By cheating friend and robbing foe—
Non confundar in æternum!
Rich Jassy's plain I want for grain,
Bucharest I want for plunder;
I've knouts for all who dare complain—
In æternum non confundar!
What treaties make for me, I take,
What against me make, I burn 'em;