The Song of Acre Prisoners
Lyrics: Ze'ev Jabotinsky
Music: Josef Milat
From Dan until Be'er Sheva,
from Gilad to the sea,
not a foot of our land was
not atoned for with blood.
Hebrew blood was totally absorbed
by every ploughed field, and mountain and valley;
Yet from generation to generation
There was no purer blood than - that spilled
of the ploughmen of Tel Hai
of the ploughmen of Tel Hai.
Between Ayelet and Metula,
concealed in a desolate grave,
the border guardian of our land was silenced.
The hero was severed.
We are captives but our hearts
lean towards Tel Hai in the north;
We, we shall own,
the crown of the Hermon, the crown of the Hermon.