We hold no record, boy, of your brave deed;
We know not how ’twas done, nor in what need
Your courage lept to life.
We only know you’ve won a name,
And that you bravely played the game,
And conquered in the strife.
We try to picture, boy, just how ’twas done;
We hear the shriek of shell, the boom of gun,
And sudden in our dream.
Was it at night you braved the foe,
Or while the evening’s sunset glow
Made golden hill and stream?
We do you honour, boy, howe’er it was
Our hearts are full for you, more so because
We know not who you are.
We know you are some mother’s son,
And that a splendid Cross you’ve won,
Which glistens like a star.
And though you record boy, is not on earth.
And though no book of fame sets forth your worth,
Your heart need not be sad.
A surer book is kept on High,
And your brave deed will never die.
Rejoice, then, and be glad.
You are a hero, boy, though yet unknown;
I would Australia’s arms were round you thrown
In proud and loving care.
We cannot do too much for you,
A nation’s homage is your due,
A nation’s grateful prayer.