Battle Song
Battle Song
Silver and white are the planes aflight, and the guns are manifold,And hour and hour we gain that power which the Lords of war extolledWhen the wrath-fires flared, and the blades were bared, in the first red tide that flowed.We’ve quelled the fears of the darkest years, and the vistas of remorseGrow less and less in the wilderness where the south wind gathers force,And a golden scope in the sun of hope rolls north of the Anzac Horse.When shrapnel breaks and the skyline quakes in the tempest loud and long,We’ll gallop our files through the shell-torn aisles of a sadly shaken throng,And the fire of hell will grandly swell to a martial storm of song.Swift as the tide then we shall ride for the goal that burns ahead—When night rolls round we’ll slumber sound where God’s sweet light is shed,And the silver eyes of the cloudless skies will watch o’er the valiant dead.“GERARDY.”
Silver and white are the planes aflight, and the guns are manifold,And hour and hour we gain that power which the Lords of war extolledWhen the wrath-fires flared, and the blades were bared, in the first red tide that flowed.We’ve quelled the fears of the darkest years, and the vistas of remorseGrow less and less in the wilderness where the south wind gathers force,And a golden scope in the sun of hope rolls north of the Anzac Horse.When shrapnel breaks and the skyline quakes in the tempest loud and long,We’ll gallop our files through the shell-torn aisles of a sadly shaken throng,And the fire of hell will grandly swell to a martial storm of song.Swift as the tide then we shall ride for the goal that burns ahead—When night rolls round we’ll slumber sound where God’s sweet light is shed,And the silver eyes of the cloudless skies will watch o’er the valiant dead.“GERARDY.”
Silver and white are the planes aflight, and the guns are manifold,And hour and hour we gain that power which the Lords of war extolledWhen the wrath-fires flared, and the blades were bared, in the first red tide that flowed.
Silver and white are the planes aflight, and the guns are manifold,
And hour and hour we gain that power which the Lords of war extolled
When the wrath-fires flared, and the blades were bared, in the first red tide that flowed.
We’ve quelled the fears of the darkest years, and the vistas of remorseGrow less and less in the wilderness where the south wind gathers force,And a golden scope in the sun of hope rolls north of the Anzac Horse.
We’ve quelled the fears of the darkest years, and the vistas of remorse
Grow less and less in the wilderness where the south wind gathers force,
And a golden scope in the sun of hope rolls north of the Anzac Horse.
When shrapnel breaks and the skyline quakes in the tempest loud and long,We’ll gallop our files through the shell-torn aisles of a sadly shaken throng,And the fire of hell will grandly swell to a martial storm of song.
When shrapnel breaks and the skyline quakes in the tempest loud and long,
We’ll gallop our files through the shell-torn aisles of a sadly shaken throng,
And the fire of hell will grandly swell to a martial storm of song.
Swift as the tide then we shall ride for the goal that burns ahead—When night rolls round we’ll slumber sound where God’s sweet light is shed,And the silver eyes of the cloudless skies will watch o’er the valiant dead.
Swift as the tide then we shall ride for the goal that burns ahead—
When night rolls round we’ll slumber sound where God’s sweet light is shed,
And the silver eyes of the cloudless skies will watch o’er the valiant dead.
“GERARDY.”
“GERARDY.”