Not for the hope of glory,Nor for desire of loot,Not for the pride of conquest,Nor dream of wild pursuit;But because ancient battlesStir in our memory,Hopeless as went our fathersAnd stern as they, go we.
Maybe that we shall drive them,Maybe we fight in vain,We care not now our fathersAre born in us again.When the old voices called usWe heard them and obeyed,Whether we die or conquerWe have not been afraid.
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