Mothers and wives, ’tis the call to arms
That the bugler yonder prepares to sound;
We stand on the brink of war’s alarms
And your men may lie on a blood-stained
ground.
The drums may play and the flags may fly,
And our boys may don the brown and blue,
And the call that summons brave men to die
Is the call for glorious women, too.
Mothers and wives, if the summons comes,
You, as ever since war has been,
Must hear with courage the rolling drums
And dry your tears when the flags are seen.
For never has hero fought and died
Who has braver been than the mother, who
Buckled his sabre at his side,
And sent him forward to dare and do.
Mothers and wives, should the call ring out,
It is you must answer your country’s cry;
You must furnish brave hearts and stout
For the firing line where the heroes die.
And never a corpse on the field of strife
Should be honoured more in his country’s sight
Than the noble mother or noble wife
Who sent him forth in the cause of right.
Mothers and wives, ’tis the call for men
To give their strength and to give their lives;
But well we know, such a summons then
Is the call for mothers and loyal wives,
For you must give us the strength we need,
You must give us the boys in blue,
For never a boy or a man shall bleed
But a mother or wife shall suffer, too.
