Hooves thunder upon green fields
The caparisons waving
Golden rays upon helmets
The nobility of France
All assembled for the fight
The fleur-de-lis is raised high
The poor peasants are trampled
As the kingdom rushes on

Citizens clench their sharp pikes
Good day, they call their weapons
For the Lion of Flanders
For shield and friend and freedom
The cruel royal yoke cast off
Brutally slaughtered at night
Their garissons are wiped out
The people's army marches

That terrible summer's day
The green, green fields of Flanders
Turn red with the knights' blood
Thousands fall, freedom gained
Merciless, no chivalry
As they take no prisoners
Golden spurs lay in the grass
Scattered proof of vanity