That the bugler yonder prepares to sound;
We stand on the brink of war's alarms
And your men may lie on a blood-stained
ground.
The drums may play and the flags may fly,
And our boys may don the brown and blue,
And the call that summons brave men to die
Is the call for glorious women, too.
Mothers and wives, if the summons comes,
You, as ever since war has been,