We are the men, without name, without ken, Who forever face terror and death. We serve our cause for the length of our lives A service which ends with our breath.
Chorus In the days that are red with the flow of our blood, In the nights of the blackest despair, Through the length and the breadth of our land, we shall raise our banner of strength without fear.
Not driven like slaves at the master’s command, forced to die at the stranger’s behest, We dream of the time when our people and land, by freedom and peace will be blessed.
Chorus When death we shall meet in the house, in the street, put to rest in the silence of night. Our places left void, will resound to the feet of the thousands now come to the fight.
The tears of our mothers bereft of their sons, And the blood that our heroes have spilt, shall be the cement – our bodies the bricks. And thus will our land be rebuilt.
Note:
Lyrics courtesy of the Betar Shiron 1960 edition, Australia No longer in print
