Trumpets of the Lancer Corps <br />Sound a loud reveille; <br />Sound it over Sydney shore, <br />Send the message far and wide <br />Down the Richmond River side. <br />Boot and Saddle, mount and ride, <br />Sound a loud reveille. <br />Whither go ye, Lancers gay, <br />With your bold reveille? <br />O'er the ocean far away <br />From your sunny southern home, <br />Over leagues of trackless foam <br />In a foreign land to roam, <br />With your bold reveille. <br /> <br />When we hear our brethren call, <br />Sound a clear reveille. <br />Then we answer, one and all, <br />Answer that the world may see, <br />Of the English stock are we, <br />At their side we still will be, <br />Sound a bold reveille. <br /> <br />English troops are buried deep. <br />Sound a soft reveille. <br />In this foreign land asleep, <br />Underneath Majuba Hill, <br />Lying sleeping very still, <br />Nevermore those squadrons will <br />Answer to reveille. <br /> <br />Onward without fear or doubt, <br />Sound a bold reveille. <br />'Till that shame is blotted out. <br />While our Empire's bounds are wide, <br />Britons all stand side by side, <br />Boot and saddle, mount and ride. <br />Hear the bold reveille.<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-reveille/
