We cannot join the ranks of those
Who valiantly march forth to fight,
Against aggressive wicked foes
Who substitute vile wrong for right;
But we believe with faith most strong,
That right must ever conquer wrong.

We dare not utter all we feel,
Neutrality our speech controls,
But no power on earth can steal
The independence of our souls,
And from our souls we sympathise
With the cause of the Allies.

We know that little Belgium's lying
Wounded, bleeding, in her pain,
With unavailing efforts trying,
Freedom once more to regain;
We cannot raise her drooping head,
But we can feed her with our bread.

We cannot hear the sound of guns,
We are safe in peaceful lands,
We cannot see the hated huns
Ravaging with ruthless hands.
But the cry of blank despair
Echoes sadly everywhere.

We cannot stay our tear-drops flowing,
When we read of actions cruel,
Our hearts with lurid anger glowing,
Fresh reports pile up the fuel;
Our restless hands are idle still,
But thoughts can wander where they will.

The blood of helpless martyrs shed,
Cries for vengeance soon or late,
On the savage tyrant's head
Will fall the heavy hand of fate;
Retribution and remorse
Must surely follow in their course.