Small birds singing in the tree tops tell
Where runs the river of my home
And the whistfiul wishing of the folk who love us well
And follow us wherever we may roam.

And our hearts go back to the folk beside the river
To the land where the sheep and cattle roam
It’s a long, long job, but we’ll finish it together
For every mile we travel leads us home.

No songs greet us for the birds are mute
The aeroplane’s the only thing to fly
Upward to the pilot send a special brand salute
For we may need him badly bye and bye.

Soldiers singing as their fancies come
New song, old songs, they sang another day
Thus they sing and march to the beating of the drum
Till orders come to put the drums away.

And our hearts go back to the folk beside the river
To the land where the sheep and cattle roam
Its a long, long job, but we’ll finish it together
For every mile we travel leads us home.

Written Sept 1940