| There are bonfires on the high hills of the Tatras
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| There are desires for war on the hills of the Fatras
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| There are choes of the loud roaring war cries
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| There are the men of steel standing almost under the skies
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| Up the hills the warriors slowly march
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| They are shielded with the thick larch
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| They are as one in body and brain
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| They don’t feel any fatigue and pain
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| The pitiless battle is raging the whole night
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| And masses of men are dying in this tiresome fight
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| Above the battlefield the moon is shining bright
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| And the stodorans are giving an abysmal fright
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| 911 — At the close of the year
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| Bravery and power of stodoran’s tribe appear
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| Absolute triumph of the stodorans is very near
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| And numerous bonfires of victory are blazing clear
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| The battle is over, all the ground is soaked in gore
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| 20 000 men were killed in the war
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| The ugrians suffered a crushing defeat
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| And the stodorans performed a great feat |