With a beer in his hand,and a pistol in the other,
With a grin upon his face,drinks,cheering to the slaughter.
They wanted a fight,not exactly a war,
But looking at them with a desire to clean,he turned that in more than a brawl.
In the silence of the night,you can hear it coming,
Like a thousand running horses,it is coming trampling,
A machine of doom,with cold steel,and a Flak gun to surpass them all,
The mighty Tiger,commanded by Schultz,they will both fight until they fall.