And, fighting, one to fifty, die
For freedom, fireside and God.
Fear not, brave, freeborn, voiceless Boers.
Great Usland’s heart is yours to-day.
Aye, England’s heart of hearts is yours,
Whatever scheming men may say.
Her scheming men have mines to sell,
And we? Why, meat and corn and wheat.
But, Boers, all brave hearts wish you well;
For England’s triumph means defeat.