On rides a captain and 300 soldier lads. Out of the morning mist and thro' the silent snow.
Whistling gaily rides the captain at their head, Behind him soldier boys sadly weeping go.
For when you took my gold and swore to follow me;
You sold away your lives and your liberty.
No more you'll till the soil, no more you'll work the land.
No more to the dance you'll go and take girls by the hand.
O mother weep, for your son.
He is gone to kill and die.
You'll weep, you'll die by the keen edge of the sword;
All alone by the muddy Danube shore.
He gave the order for the drummers to beat their drums. That mothers all might know the life a soldier
lives.
Unfurl your ragged banners and brace your pale young face.
You'll all go in the fire there'll be no hiding place.
O mother hear the drumbeat in the village square.
O mother, that drums for me to go for a soldier there.
Mothers, sisters, wives, weep for us.
Marked as Cain we die alone.