Will you walk with me in the heat of the day
Till we come at the crossroads on the way
Of a dusty road on Tarakan
To a scene in the scheme of the war's mad plan?
There are soldiers there in a little square
Who will breathe no more of the dust-filled air,
On the trails they died, by the road they rest
With foreign soil on each manly chest.
On the crosses which mark the arid mounds
Are the tales of courage which know no bounds
'Killed in Action' and 'Died of Wounds'
But wasted lives are war's worst ruin.
You will see mates at the graveside stand
Quietly, slouch hats held in hand
And you may grieve, as they will too,
For the hopes and dreams which will not come true.
In death these men have simple needs,
No separate tracts for differing creeds;
For the shoulders, which never were cold in life
Are together in death as they were in strife.
You may gaze at the flag which hangs from the mast
To honour the men who were staunch to the last
And fancy you hear a quiet voice say:
Australia, my country, will you repay.
Will you warm my heart, give daily bread
To the hungry mouths which once were fed
Through the sweat and toil of a fallen man
Who sleeps by the road on Tarakan,
So when you return by the dusty road
You may bear your share of a sacred load
With a pride whose flame ignited them
Will burn to the sound of the last 'Amen!'