Son of our King: When yoemen sailed
From Britain to expand her sway,
The coward from High venture quailed,
The weakling sank beside the way.
None save the strong in that far day,
The brave, stood clear-eyed at the prow
To plan such parts as venturers play.
Here be their kin who greet you now.


Britain had failed if these had failed -
Stout pioneers whose sterner clay,
Reckless of that the task entailed,
Faced the unknown with no dismay.
Out to vast wildernesses they
Blazed pain-strewn paths, for axe plough
To earn this fruitful century's pay.
Here be their kin who greet you now.


When o'er an Empire bugles wailed
To summon liegemen to the fray,
In sons the olden urge prevailed;
Nor life, nor love might bid them stay.
Unblooded, in red war's array
They proved the breed, they kept the vow,
They paid the price as liegemen may.
Here be their kin who greet you now.