Ghosts Of Bullecourt

The Western Front, a line of dread, In nineteen seventeen, where heroes bled. Bullecourt's fields, a muddy stain, Australia's sons, in driving rain.

First Bullecourt, in April's grip, A Hindenburg Line, with barbed wire strip. Against the wire, they bravely fought, But heavy losses, dearly bought.

We will remember their names in the wind

We will remember, where courage begins

Through the dust and pain

Their sacrifice wasn’t in vain

Ten thousand souls, a tragic toll, Killed, wounded, captured, lost control. A nation mourned, a heavy cost, For ground that yielded, almost lost.

Second Bullecourt, in May's embrace, Another push, in that forsaken place. With bitter struggle, inch by inch, They fought with courage, in the trench.

We will remember their names in the wind

We will remember, where courage begins

Through the dust and pain

Their sacrifice wasn’t in vain

Though victory claimed, at such a price, Their sacrifice, beyond all vice. Bullecourt's name, forever etched, In Aussie hearts, a memory fetched.