English Translation

20 When we were gone joyfully against the hated enemy, - Has some pretty girls wept after us a tear, - But at the farewell sounded brightly the glasses with the good wine, — Until the hour had come, where it must have been divorced; — But in all the need of war I thought of the bread, - On the crisp sausage fat and tender, which lay in the tornister. - And as often as I have emptied my bottle in the campaign, - I have always consumed my sausage with the bread. And we went and we drove many hundred hundred miles, - To divide the Franzmann, the wicked, once well. - At Saarbrücken he would like to show us his superiority, But not for long the game which the enemy made with us. — From Saarbrücken to Saarlouis, to Bitsch thrown then - From the more pompous German troops with the emperor always ahead. - And we penetrated deeper and deeper into the enemy's land. — Until Paris the great city of the world was taken by us. But I return from the battlefield richly decorated with medals, - And I still had the crackwurst, 'where Guste taunted me with, — and she had grown old to me, because I have been lying down for a long time - Jm Tornister, as a reward faithful to love. When we came to the gate, I first remembered the crackwurst, which from the campaign I kept as tender as a beautiful piece; — And I swung her with joy and I sent a glance, - To the Guste, the conscious, to the cellar door. But now I have the Gust and she is now jetting my wife — And we are for love a soul and a body! - If a little Guste or a Recruit sets up, - O, then I want to rejoice in the weighing of the marital status. — Sing I then la la la and the boy calls Papa — And the Guste cooks the porridge and she smiles with it. - O then I will embrace her and then ask them in happiness: — .Do you think, Guste, the conscious back to the cellar door? But in derkEhe also a small quarrel is made, - O, so we do not make life a great suffering. - If the gust begins to scold the conscious once, — As it can happen once in every marriage, - Then I call in all need: "Think of the bread of butter, - Of the crackling sausage fat and tender, which I keep of France." - And the guste, the conscious, smiles with a good look, — And she says: "My dear boy, yes, I think of it. - Faithful to the Fa is the love of soldiers. The soldier leads the most beautiful life in the world, he moves into the field. — On top of that he straps his tornister, his girl heartily and kisses him, — on top of it he pulls with a light mind, think sometimes of the love! For faithful is the soldier's love, for faithful is that of the soldier, — for faithful are the soldiers' license, yes love, yes, love!