C'est mon dernier pigeon - 1914

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