Here's the promised translation:

[1935:] [Langhoff has had the idea to put on a show in order to demonstrate to the SS that the prisoners are by no means the 'subhuman', culture-less beings the Nazis portrayed them as, and has been looking for volunteers.] A comrade came towards me, dragging another along by his sleeve. "You are the actor, eh? Now, this is our poet. He has had poems published by the 'Ruhr Echo', and he's even written songs for middle-class choirs!" We walked on together. The 'poet' was a miner by trade, an older, quiet man. I said: "Couldn't you make a song that the whole camp can sing together? You realize, of course, that it must not be of the kind the SS could forbid us to sing. It ought to relate to our camp as well as to our families back home. You know, a song about home, but no kitsch like 'Back to my homeland I long to go...' " "Yes, I could do that," the comrade said thoughtfully. " I'll give it a try and bring the song to your hut some time during the week." [...]

The Sunday arrived. In the morning we rehearsed the new song our miner had written and to which a clerk had made a tune. [...] And then the camp's inmates heard, for the first time, the 'Boergermoor Song', which in the meantime has attained a folksong-like popularity. One of us said: "Comrades, we're going to sing you the 'Boergermoor Song', our camp song. Listen well and then sing along with the chorus." Dark and heavy, in march time, the choir began:

Wohin auch das Auge blicket, Moor und Heide nur ringsum
Vogelsang uns nicht erquicket, Eichen stehen kahl und stumm
Wir sind die Moorsoldaten und ziehen mit dem Spaten ins Moor ...
(Far and wide as the eye can wander, heath and bog are everywhere

Not a bird sings out to cheer us, oaks are standing gaunt and bare
We are the peat-bog soldiers marching with our spades to the bog)

Total silence - They all sat as though frozen, unable to sing along and listened to the chorus again.

Wir sind die Moorsoldaten und ziehen mit dem Spaten ins Moor ...
Hier in dieser öden Heide ist das Lager aufgebaut
Wo wir ferne jeder Freude hinter Stacheldraht verstaut
Wir sind die Moorsoldaten und ziehen mit dem Spaten ins Moor ...

(In this bleak and lonely moorland a camp it has been built for us
Where we're kept behind the barbed wire, any joy denied to us)

Morgens ziehen die Kolonnen in das Moor zur Arbeit hin
Graben bei dem Brand der Sonnen, doch zur Heimat steht der Sinn
Wir sind die Moorsoldaten und ziehen mit dem Spaten ins Moor ...

(Every morning all the columns march out to work upon the moor
We dig beneath the cruel sun's glare while dreaming of our homeland far)

Some comrades began to hum along, quietly and sadly. They looked neither left nor right. Their gaze went beyond the barbed wire - it went to where the sky met the endless heath.

Heimwärts, heimwärts jeder sehnet, zu den Eltern, Weib und Kind
Manche Brust ein Seufzer dehnet, weil wir hier gefangen sind
Wir sind die Moorsoldaten und ziehen mit dem Spaten ins Moor ...

(Homeward, homeward goes our yearning, to our parents, wives and weans
Many a chest is full of sighing for far from them we're kept in chains)

I saw the commander. He sat with his head down and his foot moving in the sand. The SS silent and unmoving. - I saw the comrades. Many were crying. -

Auf und nieder geh'n die Posten, keiner, keiner kann hindurch
Flucht wird nur das Leben kosten, vierfach ist umzäunt die Burg
Wir sind die Moorsoldaten und ziehen mit dem Spaten ins Moor ...

(Up and down the guards are pacing, no one, no one can get through
Flight would mean a sure death facing, guns and barbed wire greet our view)

This verse was done very quietly. Suddenly the comrades' singing grew very loud and hard as they started the last verse:

Doch für uns gibt es kein Klagen, ewig kann's nicht Winter sein
Einmal werden froh wir sagen: Heimat, Du bist wieder mein!

(But for us there is no complaining, winter will in time be past
One day we shall cry, rejoicing, homeland, dear, you're mine at last)

Dann ziehn die Moorsoldaten nicht mehr mit dem Spaten ins Moor!

And the last chorus, the: "No more with their spades!", was sung loudly and powerfully. The spell was broken. At the repeat of the chorus all nine hundred inmates sang:

"Then will the peat-bog soldiers march no more with their spades to the bog!"

This was the end of our show and the units marched back to their huts in a very disciplined and calm manner. Hardly had we reached our hut when some SS men came rushing in: "Boys! You did a marvelous show, that was wonderful!" They were enraptured. The ice was broken, and for the first time the two sides spoke to each other like human beings. [...] "Hey, who was it who wrote the 'Boergermoor Song'?" "Well - it wasn't written by an individual. We all contributed, like." We took great care not to let them know who the author was. [...]
Two days later, the song was forbidden. Because of the last verse, in all likelihood - it was open to different interpretations, after all. But it was the S.S. men who demanded the song again and again, and who prevailed against their commander. On the long marches to our workplaces the order usually was: "Sing! Boergermoor Song!" "We're not allowed to sing that," the comrades pointed out. "Nonsense! Out here I am in charge! And who's going to hear it out here anyway!" The head started off and the whole column joined in with gusto.

We also tried to use handing out copies of the song to further our purpose. Not every S.S. man got a copy, not by a long way, but only those who didn't torment or beat us. Every time someone got a copy we got a chance to draw him into a discussion. (Wolfgang Langhoff, Die Moorsoldaten, 2. ed. 1974, p. 151ff, transl. Susanne Kalweit, apart from verses 1, 5, 6)