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Whether it storms or snows, or the sun smiles on us,
The day burning hot, or the icy cold of night.
Dusty are our faces, but happy is our mind, yes, our mind.
Then roar our tanks in the storm’s wind.

With thundering engines, fast as lightning,
Towards the enemy, sheltered in the tank.
Ahead of our comrades, In the fight all alone, yes all alone.
So we push deep into the enemy lines!

When before us a hostile tank appears,
Full throttle is given and we close with the enemy.
What does our life matter for the Reich’s army? Yes, Reich’s army.
To die for Germany is our highest honor.

With barriers and tanks the foe blocks our path,
We laugh about it and don’t drive upon them.
And even if their hand shakes morosely and furiously, yes their hand.
We search for ways, that no one else found.

And if we are abandoned by treacherous luck,
And if we don’t return home again,
If death’s bullet finds us, and fate calls us away, yes, us away.
Then our tank shall become an honorable grave!

—The Panzerlied