.Aus der Ferne hallen die Gerüchte
Schemenhaft durchs Nebelheim
All das Grauen, die Berichte
Nähren Eurer Ãngste Keim
Lasst den letzten Humpen kreisen
Hoch die Hörner - au der Sieg!
Met soll unsren Geist beflügeln
Eh' wir ziehen in den Krieg
Meine Brüder, meine K.
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