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War, war, tarted up war,

In the heat of passion you spawned quite a ruler!

Moscow’s tops, the Reich’s crumbling,

Berlin alone still stands.

And his royal highness? He’s stuffing his face.

Oy, oy, oy!

I’d give you half the world,

Germania!

Ma—ni—a!

If only you could be like little Croatia,

Germania!

If only you could be like tiny Monaco,

Picture all Europe exactly like that!

May we suggest you consider castration?

SS ma-ni-a!

War, war, hotly loved war,

You’ll chip your teeth chasing around that way!

Bells are tolling out in triumph—

But Stalingrad’s not Germanified!

From all four corners of the world,

Cripples, crawling, crying…

“Heil! Heil! Heil!”

You had half the world,

Germania!

Ma-ni-a!

Now you’ve got crap in your pants

And crap to patch your pants!

Shit-caked country!

Better be like tiny Monaco,

Rather than a Europe like that…

My dears, consider castration?

SS ma-nia-a!