BUT since our boys are going, though the cause seems cronk to me,
I’ll say it’s in accordance with the things that have to be,
And trust they’ll manage with the best the work they’re set to do,
For the honour of old New South Wales from a worldly point of view!

For up the country and Out Back—from the Darling to the Quay;
And let some old familiar sound your cheering war-cry be:
Sing “Sydney! Clontarf! Manly Beach! Bondi!” and “Coogee!” too,
For the honour of old New South Wales from a worldly point of view!

When your lungs are choked up in your throat, and your heart beats in your head!
And in the smoke before your eyes there’s a blinding mist blood-red,
When sinews draw like red-hot wire, and knocked-out men are you,
There’s the honour of old New South Wales from a worldly point of view!

Then draw the moisture from your checks to damp your cracking “clay”,
And let some old familiar name your death-yell be that day!
Cry “Four-bob Robbo!” “Wool-away!” Cry “Bourke!” and “Woolloomooloo!”
For the glory of old New South Wales from a worldly point of view.

If you get yourselves into a mess, cut off in broken ground,
In a red-hot gully, where the foe are firing down all round;
Where the “burring” bullets smash your heads and the shells cut mates in two;
There’s the honour of old New South Wales from a worldly point of view!

Yell “Blank and glory, lurid dash!” and through the dust “Coo-ee!”
And let the great Australian oath in all your barrack be;
Yell “Star” and “Noose” and “Bully-teen” and “Times”, and “’Erald”, too,
For the glory of old New South Wales from a worldly point of view!

Then climb and crawl as long as nail hangs on to toe or claw,
And fire and strike, and strike and shoot, as long as muscles draw!
For the girls you took to Manly Beach, who’ll wait on the Quay for you—
For the honour of old New South Wales from the people’s point of view!