The thirty-two band sounds great.

The thirty-two-man band plays beautifully, ; Hungarian boys are marching on it. ; They are marching to a foreign land, ; To the mountainous border of Dalmatia. ; ; Oh, my God, how one must get used to it there, ; How one must love that Dalmatian girl. ; When I hug her, my arms die, ; When I kiss her, my tears fall. ; ; I must go, I must go, to a soldier, ; I must leave my mother here. ; I do not really feel sorry for my lover, ; Because I can find her in every city. ; ; (to the last two lines of the melody) ; ; I only feel sorry for my mother, ; Because I cannot find her anywhere.