The moon lets proudly glisten the warpaint and spikes the knights they stand over there watching in the dark are fearless while they think 
That could be the last beautiful night. 
Be willing to die and to kill the swords, axes and shields are shining dreadful in the moonlight then they raise their fists and scream their warcry 
Furor Teutonicus 
The horde blows the enemies the swords are drilled into the bastard´s bodies axes chop off and split their heads the battle was won 
The battlefield was a sea of blood and pain