Hie Landsknecht, nehmt den Spieß zur Hand

Text zum Lied: Hie Landsknecht nehmt den Spieß zur Hand, der Welsch mit Roß anstürmet, wir wölln ihn stan für´s teutsche Land, der Herre Gott uns schirmet. Heia ho, heia ho, heia ho halli hallo. Der Feind schlagt her mit scharfem Schwert, hat Stahl an Brust und Händen. Wir stechen ihn herab vom Pferd, stecht nur in Hals und Lenden. Heia ho, heia ho, heia ho halli hallo. Nit feit ihn Brünne, Schild und Hut, er muß im Grase sterben, und lassen wir auch unser Blut, tun wir den Himmel erben. Heia ho, heia ho, heia ho halli hallo. Schon wälzet sich der feige Troß in ihrem Blut so rote. Wir schlagen alle Mann und Roß, auf einem Hauf zu Tode. Heia ho, heia ho, heia ho halli hallo. --- English lyrics: (VERSION 1 - My old Translation from 2013) Hey Landsknecht take your Spear into your Hands, the Welsch (Italian/french knight) is riding aggressivly towards you, we want to stop him, for the sake of our land (germany) the lord (god) protects us. Heia ho, heia ho, heia ho halli hallo. The Enemy is hitting with his sharp sword, is having Steel on chest and hands. We sting him down from his horse, go sting in his neck and loins! Heia ho, heia ho, heia ho halli hallo. His ring-armour, shield and helmet doesn´t save him, he must die in the fields, and if we lose our blood (life), we will go to heaven. Heia ho, heia ho, heia ho halli hallo. And now the cowards of the Troß, (Troß: camp follower contingent of an army) are crawling in their blood, We slaughter all men and horses, all together on one pile. Heia ho, heia ho, heia ho halli hallo. ------ English Lyrics (VERSION 2 - A new (and maybe shorter better) Translation, it is from Channel “Kevin Andrews“, published 2020) --- check out the great Video: 👍 Landsknecht, take the pike to hand, The foreigner with horse storms onwards, We would oppose him for German land, The Lord God will protect us. Refrain: Heia ho, heia ho, heia ho halli hallo. The foe strikes forth with sharp sword, Has steel on breast and hands. We bring him down from his horse, And pierce him in the throat and loins. Mail, shield and helm will not avail him, He must die in the grass, And should we let also our own blood, Do we inherit Heaven. Already the cowardly baggage train rolls In their own blood so red. We strike down every man and horse, Upon a great heap of the dead.