You have heard about the landing,
And our deeds of gallantry,
Of how we proved our British breed
Out on Gallipoli.
We charged the cruel bayonets;
We faced the canons’ roar;
We flinched not from the bullets,
As through the air they tore.
The storming of the hillside,
Like the brightest stars will shine,
But the grandest feat of all them
Was the “Holding of the Line.”
They showered us with shrapnel,
Explosive bullet and dum-dum;
We quailed not from their fury,
Though they were five to one.
And, when the glorious moon rose up,
And shed its sheen around,
Our rifles changed to pick and spade,
And we trenched the hard-won ground.
We thought of little Belgium,
Of the tyrant by the Rhine,
And we dug for British freedom
And the “Holding of the Line.”
The foe, like demons, countered,
And bullets poured like rain;
But our orders were to “hold on”
Or be numbered with the slain.
When hot Australian temper
Could stand the strain no more,
We leapt out from the trenches
And forced the foe before.
And now, when in Australia,
You hear this soldier’s rhyme,
We know you’ll give us credit
For the “Holding of the Line.”
Al-Hayat, Helouin, Egypt