I was a girl of thirteen when my three brothers went to the war;
Martin, and Robert and Jack, and as I waved from the door
I thought: “Who in the world could have brothers as handsome as they?”
Three Australian Light Horsemen, I see their proud figures today.
Our parents were Irish, with no love for England at all,
But their sons were Australians, and each bravely answered the call,
In their turned-up slouch hats, and their feathers, and leggings, and spurs,
The Empire, as much as their my mother, knew these sons were hers.
And at the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We'll remember them
Lest we forget.
The mailman brought cards from Colombo and then from Port Said.
Here's a photo of Jack, in Egypt his first camel ride
And look at young Bobby, in London here, crossing The Strand
And Martin writes: “Mum and Dad, life in the army is grand”.
The same mailman brought us the news about our darling Jack,
“Regret to inform you your son Jack will never come back.
He died of his wounds at Gallipoli, so brave was he
He's awarded the Military Medal posthumously.”
And at the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We'll remember them
Lest we forget.
When the telegram came, my mother collapsed, and I had
The terrible task of breaking the news to my Dad.
With our old draught-horse, Punch, my father was ploughing the land
When I ran to the paddock, the telegram clutched in my hand.
The Irishman read it said: “Thank you, now leave me alone,
Go on back to the house, help your mother, she's there on her own”
He called: “Stand up Punch, we have to get on with this job”
But I saw his slumped shoulders, and I heard his heart-rending sob.
And at the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We'll remember them
Lest we forget.
Well, Robert was gassed, and he always had pains in his head
And Martin was shell-shocked and he'd have been better off dead
And I - I'm just an old lady who watched them all go,
But I am the one you should ask about war for I know.
That all of these years have gone by, and I know the grief yet
Yes I will remember them - I can't forget
And at the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We'll remember them
Lest we forget.
Martin, and Robert and Jack, and as I waved from the door
I thought: “Who in the world could have brothers as handsome as they?”
Three Australian Light Horsemen, I see their proud figures today.
Our parents were Irish, with no love for England at all,
But their sons were Australians, and each bravely answered the call,
In their turned-up slouch hats, and their feathers, and leggings, and spurs,
The Empire, as much as their my mother, knew these sons were hers.
And at the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We'll remember them
Lest we forget.
The mailman brought cards from Colombo and then from Port Said.
Here's a photo of Jack, in Egypt his first camel ride
And look at young Bobby, in London here, crossing The Strand
And Martin writes: “Mum and Dad, life in the army is grand”.
The same mailman brought us the news about our darling Jack,
“Regret to inform you your son Jack will never come back.
He died of his wounds at Gallipoli, so brave was he
He's awarded the Military Medal posthumously.”
And at the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We'll remember them
Lest we forget.
When the telegram came, my mother collapsed, and I had
The terrible task of breaking the news to my Dad.
With our old draught-horse, Punch, my father was ploughing the land
When I ran to the paddock, the telegram clutched in my hand.
The Irishman read it said: “Thank you, now leave me alone,
Go on back to the house, help your mother, she's there on her own”
He called: “Stand up Punch, we have to get on with this job”
But I saw his slumped shoulders, and I heard his heart-rending sob.
And at the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We'll remember them
Lest we forget.
Well, Robert was gassed, and he always had pains in his head
And Martin was shell-shocked and he'd have been better off dead
And I - I'm just an old lady who watched them all go,
But I am the one you should ask about war for I know.
That all of these years have gone by, and I know the grief yet
Yes I will remember them - I can't forget
And at the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We'll remember them
Lest we forget.
envoyé par Bernart - 22/7/2013 - 16:30
The beautiful and tragic story told ... we would do well to remember the arrogance and indifference demonstrated by the English both here and repeated many times across the world. Beware those who are happy to tell you who our enemies are, yet never stand to face that enemy across a field of battle.
John Birks - 20/10/2021 - 05:44
I'm not sure where you got all the extra words from, including a whole extra verse, but I've never found them in any of the original recordings. Including my copy of the CD the song was sung on.
This wasn't an anti-War song, it was a rememberance song.
This wasn't an anti-War song, it was a rememberance song.
Jess - 31/8/2023 - 17:51
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Parole e musica di Ted Egan
Nell’album intitolato “The Anzacs”, dedicato ai ragazzi dell’Australian and New Zealand Army Corps che morirono come mosche nel corso della terribile campagna di Gallipoli (1915-16).
Interpretata da Nerys Evans, moglie dell’autore.
Testo trovato su Mudcat Café.