SONS of Shannon, Tamar, Trent, <br />Men of the Lothians, Men of Kent, <br />Essex, Wessex, shore and shire, <br />Mates of the net, the mine, the fire, <br />Lads of the wheel and desk and loom, <br />Noble and trader, squire and groom, <br />Come where the bugles of England play, <br />'Over the hills and far away!' <br /> <br />Southern Cross and Polar Star -- <br />Here are the Britons bred afar; <br />Serry, O serry them, fierce and keen, <br />Under the flag of the Empress-Queen; <br />Shoulder to shoulder down the track, <br />Where, to the unretreating Jack, <br />The victor bugles of England play, <br />'Over the hills and far away!' <br /> <br />What if the best of our wages be <br />An empty sleeve, a stiff-set knee, <br />A crutch for the rest of life -- who cares, <br />So long as the One Flag floats and dares? <br />So long as the One Race dares and grows? <br />Death -- what is death but God's own rose? <br />Let but the bugles of England play, <br />'Over the hills and far away!'<br /><br />William Ernest Henley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-new-song-to-an-old-tune/