The beat of the drum
has gone now my friend,
now that we’re cold in the ground.

The notes of the bugle
strained to their end,
now in our shrouds we are bound.

Queen,
Country
and duties’ prime call,

soldiers they mark and divide,
we kept the faith
we followed them all,

a contract
we lived and we died.

But you turned away,
your part was not kept
you trimmed
and you hedged and you turned.

For us on the ground
for us in harm’s way,
that contract
you callously spurned.

Now the beat of the drum
no longer is found
the notes of the bugle are lost

you severed the bonds
by which we were bound:

but it’s we
who have paid the full cost.