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We are given the hardest work of the war, and the hours are long.
We handle the heavy boxes, and shovel the dirty coal;
While soldiers and sailors work in the light, we burrow below like a
mole.
But somebody has to do this work, or the soldiers could not fight!
And whatever work is given a man, is good if he does it right.
We did not wait for the draft to come, to put aside our fears;
We flung them away on the winds of fate, at the very first call of our
land,
And each of us offered a willing heart and the strength of a brawny
hand.
We are the army stevedores, and work as we must and may,
The cross of honour will never be ours to proudly wear away.
