Though they dig down to Douaumont From there our bullets will take them And though they climb up to the Vaux From there we will pull them down We need more skulls Kill, kill, kill One ne passes pas Tuer, tuer, tuer 600 men who are not afraid to die Boches will swallow their pride This fort is our grave, you shall not pass Cross the Rubicon and die Buried ourselves as deep as we could We breathe down your neck Build barricades inside the corridors Our bayonets always near your throats Major Raynal counts the dead And prepares us for the final attack He opened the cage and let out the bird Our last racing homer pigeon Decisions made out of desperation We place the cannon in the corridor And when it swarms with Germans We shoot, walls splattered in blood