The sound of our mirth shall pass over earth
With balm for a nation’s tears.
Ho! ho! ho! etc.
A curse for the cold, a cup for the bold,
A smile for the girls we love;
And for him who’d bleed, in his country’s need,
A home in the skies above.
Ho! ho! ho! etc.
We have asked the page of a nobler age
For a hope secure and bright,