Oh, never say that you have reached the very end,
Though leaden skies a bitter future may portend.
Because the hour for which we yearned will yet arrive
And our marching steps will thunder: We survive!
(repeat last 2 lines of each verse)

From land of palm trees to the land of distant snow,
We are here, with our pain, with our woe,
And wherever our blood was shed in pain,
Our fighting spirits will resurrect again.

Not lead, but blood, inscribed this song we sing,
It’s not a caroling of birds upon the wing.
But ’twas a people midst the crashing fires of hell,
That sang this song, and fought courageous till it fell!