O , listen to the bugle call that summons men to arms,
Their King and country need them at the front;
They leave the desk and factory, they leave the town and farms,
To face the foe and bear the battle’s brunt…
Queen’s Own, Queen’s Own,

Sure a finer lot of lads were never known
You’ve a bonnie lot of laddies,
You’ll be missed by Rose and Gladys,
When you’re fighting at the front, Queen’s Own.

They’ve made their wills and settled up, and counted every cost,
Though most of them to give had only life,
But they’ll give it, give freely and count it cheaply lost,
To help the Empire triumph in the strife,
Queen’s Own, Queen’s Own,

When you’re fighting in the cannon-roaring zone,
When you’re charging with the bayonet,
And the blood of foemen stain it,
Don’t forget the slaughtered babes, Queen’s Own.