Sons of the Viking men,
    Norse mothers bore us,
War to their liking, men,
    Now is before us.

Wakened from slumber-land,
    Lo, we fear no man,
But march for Cumberland
    Straight on the foeman.

Fellsider, borderer,
    Harken the far cry,
“Right is your orderer,
    Honour your war-cry.”

Many shall join the fray,
    Few back be coming,
But though our bodies stay,
    Souls will be homing.

Home! Ah! that word of might,
    Harken his halloa;
John Peel, where’er we fight,
    Still will we follow.

Love of our hills and dales,
    Fast shall enfold us,
Pray, friends! for prayer avails,
    That God uphold us.

(The European War 1914-1915 Poems, p. 52)