Far and wide as the eye can wander Peat and bog are everywhere Not a bird sings out to cheer us Oaks are standing gaunt and bare Chorus We are the peatbog soldiers Marching with our spades To the moor Up and down the guards are pacing No one no one can get through Flight would mean a sure death facing Guns and barbed wire greet our view Chorus But for us there is no complaining Winter will in time be past One day we shall rise rejoicing Homeland dear, you're mine at last Then will the peatbog soldiers March no more with their spades To the moor