Classic Poem

We come from the mart and the mill,
From the ways of the worker we come;
We're called to the plain and the hill —
Far called by the roll of a drum.

And this is the blessing we ask:
Lord God, make us men in thy sight,
And stead ev'ry heart for the task
When forward we ride to the fight.

A scramble of races and creeds,
We're a little of this and of that,
With a dash of the Persians and Medes,
Who would fight at the drop of a hat.

One faith we are sworn to defend,
One cause we are armed to uphold:
Then ho! for what fortune may send!
And a yell for the flag we unfold!

And this is the blessing we ask:
Lord God, make us men in thy sight,
And stead ev'ry heart for the task
When forward we ride to the fight!