Translated by A. Z. Foreman - From the Peasant to His Illustrious Tyrant lyrics

Prince, who are you so shamelessly To maul me down with wagon wheels, To maim me with your horse? Prince, who are you that through my flesh Your friend, your unwhipped hunting hound May jam his jaws and claws? Who are you that your whooping hunt Can drive me over crop and crag Panting like some wild game? The crop you trample with your hunt; What you, your horse and dog devour, That bread, Prince, is all mine! Prince, you have never sweated out The harvest heat with plow and rake. Mine! Mine's the bread and work! Pfah! Your authority from God? God blesses; all you do is rob! God did not send you, Tyrant.