During the 1849 Revolution, the Hungarians were overthrown by the Austria/Russia.
13 Generals were subsequently executed. The 13 memorials still stand in Arad today.
Legend has it that whilst the executions were taking place, the Austrians were clinking their beer glasses in celebration. The Hungarians vowed never to clink beer glasses for 150 years. It is still considered in bad taste to this day.

When muskets shattered bones within the chest,
an era clawed from time; new shadows born
where history cast its path on Budapest.

Their fate entombed in honour; doom, their guest.
No haven in their valour, loudly worn,
when muskets shattered bones within the chest.

The sabre steel lies dormant in its quest.
Its master slain in scarlet fields of corn
when history cast its path on Budapest.

One leader freed; damnation for the rest.
Thirteen there stood; thirteen then shot at dawn,
where muskets shattered bones within the chest.

These Arad martyrs, ever standing lest
long centuries erode the passion borne
when history cast its path on Budapest.

Glasses will not kiss, by grief’s request.
Laid quietly the ghosts that gently mourn
where muskets shattered bones within the chest
when history cast its path on Budapest.