.Eine böse Wolke zieht übers Land.
Ãber Berge und Täler, Moor und Sand,
Ãber Flüsse und Seen, Land füare Land.
Sie bringen das Unheil an den Alpenrand.
Ort füare Ort brennt ab.
Kämpfer sterben in eisiger Nacht,
Plündernd rauben sie ihren Geist,
Ohne zu merken, da.
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