In the darkest brains of this tune,
Wine in dance with memories of the dying souls,
The sick trains waving on the rails,
Saying Hi! To our weary and shivering souls,
...
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant;
Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant;
Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.
Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;
A soldier's billet at night and a soldier's ration;
A heart that leaps to the fight with a soldier's passion.