To the king's son

Who gallops upon the proud steed

Into the foremost lines of battle,

And wishes to give his vigorous life

To the iron, the bullets?

It is the young son of the King!

The heir to Prussia's throne!

Because of that the king's anger is aroused

And he chides with gentle words:

"Come back, you young sprig of Zollern,

To your allotted place!

You hasty young son of the King

Must inherit the exalted throne."

Oh ride on, young noble wild one,

You knightly dagger,

From Heaven a blessed image gazes

With joy upon your ways,

The mother protects the son of the king --

You shall indeed inherit the throne of your forefathers.

With glance and sword you shall reign

Over us long in the field of honour.

For many years to come, cherished hero,

You shall bear a devout scepter,

You nimble, dear son of the King!

For you as well, we shall preserve the German throne!