Come along, see the warriors in blue
As they march along so proud, attracting such a crowd
With their bayonets fixed and their rifles at the slope.
The daughters and the sons fly the planes and fire the guns
For you and me.
Come along, see the khaki on parade.
See the General salutes, see the highly polished boots
March along to the beat of the drum
Through the mud and through the rain. Will you ever see again
The friends you knew?
For the time will come when a child returns,
The broken youth and the battle burns.
There are words of sympathetic pride
And memorials to those who died…
Now here they come, here they come down the street,
Not so many as before, their backs are tired, their feet are sore;
But the music continues to play,
Excepting for the few for whom the bugle blew
So far away…
For the time will come when a child returns,
The broken youth and the battle burns.
There are words of sympathetic pride
And memorials to those who died…
Now here they come, here they come down the street,
Not so many as before, their backs are tired, their feet are sore;
But the music continues to play,
Excepting for the few for whom the bugle blew
So far away…
So far away…
So far away…
So far away…