Author Unknown


In the night I often see them
And I hear them speak again
From the land beyond the sunset
That is barred to mortal men
And they’re still the same old cobbers
And they talk the same old way
Of Tobruk and Tel el Elsa
And of Sattelberg and Lae.

Some lie sleeping up in Egypt
Others rest on Shaggy Ridge
But there’s naught in earthly distance
That their comradeship can’t bridge
And on quiet summer evenings
When a zephyr stirs the trees
I can hear their ghostly voices
In the murmur of the breeze.

I am left, and I may prosper
But whatever is my share
In my inner heart I’m certain
That I never can compare
To the comrades who have left me
For whatever men may say
There’s no Earthy honour equal
To their fame – the K.I.A.