They march erect as they’ve done before
These soldiers of time gone by;
Their faces hold memories of missing mates,
As they march with heads held high.
How can we judge these men of war,
As they move in cadence stride?
For we know they fought to save us all,
And become the nation’s pride.
Their medals shine upon their chests,
As they march down Adelaide Street;
The cheers and claps of crowd aside,
Drown out the shuffling feet.
Their chests swell out as they march with pride,
Behind their Unit banner,
The older ones of Gallipoli campaigns,
Still show a military manner.
The bands play stirring music
And add to the ANZAC story,
As Diggers from battles of long ago,
Remember their mates in glory.
Many of the ranks are thinner now
As many old soldiers have died,
Some are supported, many are wheeled,
Others just have to ride.
But still they turn up to march with pride;
To remember their mates who fell;
Of foreign fields and battles gone by,
Those ANZACS they remember well.
Buna and Kokoda the banners showed,
The memories of battles and places,
Long Tan and Kapyong are others displayed,
They remember with solemn faces.
What makes these men march and stop the nation,
As they gather each year at dawn?
Is it to glory war? A reunion of mates?
Or to remember the many they mourn?
The marchers go by and disperse at the Shrine
As Diggers meet mates of old,
They had marched with pride and honoured the dead;
Now it’s “Two-up” and reunions to behold.
So, who would begrudge these warriors of old,
A bit of fun on the side,
For we know they fought to save us all,
And became the nation’s pride.
