What hand could write the gladness that waits us on the day
We say farewell to Anzac and steam across her bay.
When all the fighting’s over in this long cruel war
And we are rocking southward, beyond the Grecian shore.

When Imbros lies behind us and Lemnos fades from view,
When Suvla Bay’s forgotten, and Achi Baba too.
When Lone Pine is a mem’ry that’s fading from us fast,
And Ari Burnu is becoming a nightmare of the past.

When we have left the trenches and dugouts on the hill,
Each heart will leap as never we thought men’s heart could thrill.
Away from horrid mem’ries of death moans and of pain.
God speed the twenty-knotter that takes us home again.

And to the coast of Egypt, with sun haze on the sand,
While racing down the Suez, we’ll wave a farewell hand:
We’ll cast no backward glances across the Indian Sea,
Our thoughts will fly before us and light of heart we’ll be.

And when the big boat’s nearing her berth by Sydney quay,
And two brown eyes are watching the side rails there for me,
Oh, let them drop the anchor and get the gangway down!
And let us see the land again in our old Sydney town.

We’ll kiss the girls who waited through those long years so true.
Our patient loving sisters and grey haired mothers too.
We’ll find familiar faces and friends on every hand
When we return … if we return … to that sweet southern land.