To my knowledge, the only National Anthems of modern states that are military songs written in the Napoleonic era are la Marseillaise of France, The Star-Spangled Banner of the United States of America, and the National Anthem of Poland. The Song of the Polish Legions in Italy was composed 16-19 July, 1797, by Józef Wybicki, in Reggio di Emilia, Italy. It became an immediate hit among Polish soldiers and patriotic citizens. Banned by the Russian and Prussian governments after 1815, it lived on as a symbol of the Polish independence movement. With the re-establishment of an independent Polish state after World War I, it was recognized as the Polish National Anthem in 1926 under the title Mazurek Dabrowskiego or Dabrowski's Mazurka.
Jeszcze Polska nie zginela,
Kiedy my zyjemy.
Co nam obca przemoc wziela,
Szabla odbierzemy.
Chorus:
Marsz, marsz, Dabrowski,
Z ziemi wloskiej do Polski,
Za twoim przewodem
Zlaczym sie z narodem.
Przejdziem Wisle, przejdziem Warte,
Bedziem Polakami,
Dal nam przyklad Bonaparte,
Jak zwyciezac mamy.
(Chorus)
Jak Czarniecki do Poznania
Po szwedzkim zaborze,
Dla ojczyzny ratowania
Wracal sie przez morze.
(Chorus)
Poland has not yet succumbed.
As long as we remain,
What the foe by force has seized,
Sword in hand we'll regain.
Chorus:
March! March, Dabrowski,
From Italy to Poland!
Under your command
We will reunite our nation!
We will cross the Vistula and Warta
And Poles we shall be;
We've been shown by Bonaparte
The way to victory.
(Chorus)
As Czarniecki Poznan town regained,
Fighting with the Swede,
To free our fatherland from chains
We shall return across the sea!
(Chorus)
Oktoberfest
Ein volkstümliches Trinklied (a popular traditional German drinking song)
Bier her, Bier her, oder ich fall um, juchhe!
Bier her, Bier her, oder ich fall um!
Soll das Bier im Keller liegen
Und ich hier die Ohnmacht kriegen?
Bier her, Bier her, oder ich fall um!
Bier her, Bier her, oder ich fall um, juchhe!
Bier her, Bier her, oder ich fall um!
Wenn ich nicht gleich Bier bekumm,
Schmeiß ich die ganze Kneipe um! Drum:
Bier her, Bier her, oder ich fall um!
Wein her, Wein her, oder ich fall um, juchhe!
Wein her, Wein her, oder ich fall um!
Soll der Wein im Keller liegen
Und ich Rheumatismus kriegen?
Wein her, Wein her, oder ich fall um!
Beer here, beer here, or I might succumb, hurrah!
Beer here, beer here, or I might succumb!
Should the beer languish in the cellar
While here I faint from thirst?
Beer here, beer here, or I might succumb!
Beer here, beer here, or I might succumb, hurrah!
Beer here, beer here, or I might succumb!
Without beer to soothe my mind,
I might smash up the tavern! So:
Beer here, beer here, or I might succumb!
Wine here, wine here, or I might succumb, hurrah!
Wine here, wine here, or I might succumb!
Should the wine languish in the cellar
While I go down with rheumatism?
Wine here, wine here, or I might succumb!
This song is admittedly an anachronism, as it was not composed until the time of the Crimean War, but the subject matter definitely harks back to an earlier era: Was this Scottish soldier-of-fortune in the service of Austria, or even a follower of Napoleon in 1809? I think it is safe to say that the British Army never campaigned across the Tyrol...
There was a soldier, a Scottish soldier,
Who wandered far away and soldiered far away.
There was none bolder, with good broad shoulder,
He's fought in many a fray, and fought and won.
He'd seen the glory and told the story
Of battles glorious and deeds neforious,
But now he's sighing, his heart is crying,
To leave these green hills of Tyrol.
Chorus:
Because these green hills are not highland hills
Or the island hills, they're not my land's hills,
And fair as these green foreign hills may be,
They are not the hills of home.
And now this soldier, this Scottish soldier,
Who wandered far away and soldiered far away,
Sees leaves are falling and death is calling,
And he will fade away, in that far land.
He called his piper, his trusty piper,
And bade him sound a lay... a pibroch sad to play,
Upon a hillside, a Scottish hillside,
Not on these green hills of Tyrol.
(Chorus)
And so this soldier, this Scottish soldier,
Will wander far no more and soldier far no more,
And on a hillside, a Scottish hillside,
You'll see a piper play his soldier home.
He'd seen the glory, he'd told his story
Of battles glorious and deeds victorious.
The bugles cease now, he is at peace now,
Far from those green hills of Tyrol.