Oh, Breitmann - how dy sabre ringed;
Du alter Knasterbart!
De contrapands dey sing for shoy
To see de rebs go down,
Und hear der Breitmann grimly gry:
Hoorah! - ve've dook de down.
Gling, glang, gloria!
Victoria, victoria!
De Dootch have dook de down.

Mid shout and crash and sabre flash,
And vild husaren shout
De Dootchmen boorst de keller in,
Und rolled de lager out;
Und in de coorlin' powder shmoke,
Vhile shtill de pullets sung,
Dere shtood der Breitmann, axe in hand,
A knockin' out de boong.
Gling, glang, gloria!
Victoria! Encoria!
De shpicket beats de boong.

Gotts! vot a shpree der Breitmann had
Vhile yet his hand was red,
A trinkin' lager from his poots
Among de repel tead.[14]
"Tvas dus dey vent at mitternight
Along der moundain side;
'Tvas dus dey help make history!
Dis vas der Breitmann's ride.