The golden locks of fairest warr’or hair
That stream across a bravely hard-sat face
And hide from sight the cold, blue piercing eyes
That stare forward at battles to take place

This man ready to die for what he knows
Without a thought shed for his mortal life
Prepares himself to face a wicked foe
That seeks only to bring forth death and strife

But fears he not the prospect of defeat
Though face he tricks of his beguiling foe
Who seeks to turn brave men against themselves,
For this his honest heart and mind do know:

Despite the trials that he soon must face
Despite all those who seek his slow demise
Despite the lies that ’bout him have been said
He knows that above them his soul shall rise

O! Vict’ry for this bravest of all men
Who for his race and nation goes to fight
Nothing can stem the tide of his pure will
He triumphs now with strength, glory, and might!

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