Come along, see the warriors in blue As they march along so proud, attracting such a crowd With their bayonets fixed and their rifles at the slope. The daughters and the sons fly the planes and fire the guns For you and me. Come along, see the khaki on parade. See the General salutes, see the highly polished boots March along to the beat of the drum Through the mud and through the rain. Will you ever see again The friends you knew? For the time will come when a child returns, The broken youth and the battle burns. There are words of sympathetic pride And memorials to those who died... Now here they come, here they come down the street, Not so many as before, their backs are tired, their feet are sore; But the music continues to play, Excepting for the few for whom the bugle blew So far away... For the time will come when a child returns, The broken youth and the battle burns. There are words of sympathetic pride And memorials to those who died... Now here they come, here they come down the street, Not so many as before, their backs are tired, their feet are sore; But the music continues to play, Excepting for the few for whom the bugle blew So far away... So far away... So far away... So far away...