Summer’s high noon breach,

The Bustling crowd stomps about

With minds and voices together as each

Throwing tension in the haze they shout,

Our colorful caps catch the sun,

Road apples rolls through the square

Your proud sons carry father’s gun

They walk with a desiring flare

Spunky boys tumbling on the ground,

They must like the salty mud

They take their time fooling around,

For a spanking awaits them with blood

Red bottoms flashing in the air,

Booming canons stir up the boys in line

Their masters orchestrate them with a blare,

As we let our mighty Pickelhaubes shine

With thirst for blood, we advance

Church Bells roar and Trumpets toot

Fair maidens wish them a chance

Can you feel drums of my army boot?

With a rat-tat-tap of canes,

Mothers send their beloved hats away,

And once again the summer sun reigns

Knowing, return they will nay

Our fathers and uncles cheer

Today is a special day, indeed

They raise their belly mugs with beer

“We will make them bleed!”