With marshal Tito our greatest hero we will be stronger than hell we raise our heads we march bravely and tightly we clench our fist We are ancient tribe but Goths we are not we are children of ancient Slavs who says that we’re not slanders and lies surely will face our rage Like fingers on our hands even in sorrow the partisans are always united when we die we don’t cry up to the sun, to the sky we raise our fist on high
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