Saint Martin, Saint Martin,
Saint Martin rode through snow and wind
His horse carried him away quickly
Saint Martin rode with light courage
His cloak kept him warm and good

In the snow sat, in the snow sat
In the snow sat a poor man,
Had no clothes, had rags on
"Oh help me in my distress
Otherwise the bitter frost is my death!"

Saint Martin, Saint Martin,
Saint Martin pulled the reins
His horse stood still by the poor man,
Saint Martin with the sword shares
The warm cloak without delay

Saint Martin, Saint Martin
Saint Martin gave half quietly
The beggar wants to thank him quickly
But Saint Martin rode away in haste
With his part of the cloak.

CONSULTER LES PAROLES ORIGINALES