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”—
That's our bold reveille.

[End of original text.]