Whither go ye, Lancers gay,
    With your bold reveille?
O’er the ocean far away
From your sunny southern home,
Over leagues of trackless foam,
In a foreign land to roam
    With your bold reveille.

When we hear our brethren call,
    Sound a clear reveille.
Then we answer, one and all,
Answer that the world may see,
“Of the English stock are we,
At their side we still will be” —
    That’s our bold reveille.