Trumpets of the Lancer Corps Sound a loud reveille; Sound it over Sydney shore, Send the message far and wide Down the Richmond River side. Boot and Saddle, mount and ride, Sound a loud reveille. Whither go ye, Lancers gay, With your bold reveille? O'er the ocean far away From your sunny southern home, Over leagues of trackless foam In a foreign land to roam, With your bold reveille. When we hear our brethren call, Sound a clear reveille. Then we answer, one and all, Answer that the world may see, Of the English stock are we, At their side we still will be, Sound a bold reveille. English troops are buried deep. Sound a soft reveille. In this foreign land asleep, Underneath Majuba Hill, Lying sleeping very still, Nevermore those squadrons will Answer to reveille. Onward without fear or doubt, Sound a bold reveille. 'Till that shame is blotted out. While our Empire's bounds are wide, Britons all stand side by side, Boot and saddle, mount and ride. Hear the bold reveille.