Nederland
1
Song in Limburgic about the 18th century gangs known as the Buckriders and it describes a particularly infamous raid which was carried out on two farmsteads in Würm (now in Germany) on the night of 12 -13 December 1763. The locations mentioned can be found here.
Tonight is a night of death and rage
The moon hides itself in scared silence
Behind the clouds
As the raging storm even held its breath
A night in which nothing good takes place (lit. a night in which nothing happens in God's will).
Black as it will be remembered
Black as the clay that stuck to their clogs
As the (fat) rain falls down, striking every leaf
In the forest, that shudders like the horse
That shivers underneath Joseph Kirchhoffs
They paused at Prummern,
Where an icy "yes"
Like a curse
Came as a reply to every name
When the roll-call was taken
They marched from Merkstein and Herzogenrath
As dark shadows
Head for Würm
Through open field.
Heavy is the wind
That blows through the little village
But only a minor breeze when compared
To the storm that followed
The madness is great
Like the fear of death
That I felt
When I saw the Devil at night
Like the lashing of the rain
Bullets fly back and forth
A heavy door is smashed in with brute force.
With (nothing) but a rifle and prayer
A few rise up (manage to get out of bed)
But their efforts and pride
Are quickly broken and subdued
While the rain continues to fall
(....... Didn't get that part)
As troublesome as a falling horse.
But if you sleep at a farmstead
In Würm tonight
Then I wouldn't give a Reichsthaler
For your life
I heard thunder in Ubach
Saw lighting in Beek
And a blizzard that carried us
To Kerkrade
But never before
Things were as wild
As in that heavy storm that hit Würm
Last night.
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