Blow soft, ye southern breezes, blow! For see
How bright the star which guards our destiny
Sheds its soft ray!
Sail on, ye warriors, on your northward course,
And bear the banner of the Southern Cross
Far in the fray
Where the old war-worn standard waves, and dare —
Beside those glorious folds — to plant it there!
When furious and fast the battle runs,
Australia's eyes will watch her soldier sons.
When through the haze
Of battle clouds the dusky hordes appear,
Australia's sons will hold her honour dear.
Should glory's rays
Shine where the southern banners proudly wave,
Then not in vain her chivalry she gave!
When the swift-shooting spear and hissing ball
Sing through the thinning ranks, and comrades fall;
When like the blast
Bursts the wild charge upon the square again —
Bursts like a flood the human hurricane;
Then stern and fast
In the dread broach may Young Australia stand.
Firm as the mountains of her native land!