They are selling families
To the death squads
Seven and a half guilders
For each crime
Rotterdam has fallen
Now is not the time.
The ruins weep with dust
History wipes its face
Lined up against a wall
Bullets they rake.
Hunger takes its toll
They die within the street
Upon the Winter ground
Soldiers feet they pound.
Hunting for new victims
The bounty hunters strike
Men women children
Each have a price.