Under the Holy Flag of Saint Sava
Six hundred villages united, strong
Rose under Theodor, for freedom to strike
Living under the Ottoman yoke too long.
From Srem, to Backa, to Banat
Serbs valiant each one pointed his gun
At the Ottomans, pledging freedom to have
Or death if such were not to be won.
The Ottoman, seeing, knowing feared
For their green flag, to Damascus he sent
To meet the challenges the Paschas forces came
And fought until the Serbs were spent.
For safety they to Transyvania fled
Soon the Ottoman Emperor knew
Wit out the Serbs to till it, his lands were little
As to make use of the land, folk were now few.
An amnesty, it was decided, must be made
And to the Serbs the Emperor sent the call
Return to your homes and forgiven you will be
A Turkish pardon, it is promised will be for all.
And they returned, to the barren fields, man to man
As each family, to their homes destroyed, they went
As Saint Teodore was captured by the Ottoman troops
All soon learned what a Turkish pardon meant.
Praying to is Father, Holy God, accepting his fate
As with Our Lord Jesus Christ before him on the Cross
He met his tragic death, flayed alive by cruel hands
Great was Serbia’s woe, great it was her loss.
Within Belgrades walls, Saint Sava’s relics holy too
Incinerated in revenge they were as well
But that burned his memory to Serbian minds
Swearing living Turks would know a future hell.