With great Marshall Tito, our land's bravest hero,
We'll be even stronger than Hell!
We raise our heads bravely, and not hung down gravely,
And clench our fists hard as well.

We're from an ancient tribe, but Goths we don't ascribe,
As we're children of ancient Slavs.
He who says otherwise merely slanders and lies,
And surely will face our wrath.

All fingers on our hands will fight to save our lands,
As the partisans are always spry.
When we die we don't cry to the sun or the sky,

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