I:
The Devil may take who hides atop their walls,
Tomorrow we'll see them all dead.
We bastard sons will slit their throats,
And paint their hideouts red.

II:
Tomorrow, we move 'cross the brink,
But today we feast and cheer,
'Til the time of war we'll drink,
With our fists raised to the sky.

Chorus:
Now cheer up, my lads,
to our glory we will drink!
For it awaits us on the morrow,
Be you 'live or dead.

Ye brave and hearty men,
Ye proud sons of war,
Salute the flag and shine your sword,
And fill your heads with drink!

III:
We damned kind are the Forlorn Hope,
Convicts, bastards, thieves,
We fight for the glory and to our deaths,
So have a drink now if you please.

IV:
Look alive and ready, boys,
This dawn will see our foe die,
When we storm through the breach,
With the colours blazing high!