Australia takes her pen in hand 
To write a line to you, 
To let you fellows understand 
How proud we are of you. 
From shearing shed and cattle run, 
From Broome to Hobson's Bay, 
Each native-born Australian son 
Stands straighter up today. 

The man who used to "hump his drum", 
On far-out Queensland runs 
Is fighting side by side with some 
Tasmanian farmer's sons. 

The fisher-boys dropped sail and oar 
To grimly stand the test, 
Along that storm-swept Turkish shore, 
With miners from the west. 

The old state jealousies of yore 
Are dead as Pharaoh's sow, 
We're not State children any more -- 
We're all Australians now! 

Our six-starred flag that used to fly 
Half-shyly to the breeze, 
Unknown where older nations ply 
Their trade on foreign seas, 

Flies out to meet the morning blue 
With Vict'ry at the prow; 
For that's the flag the Sydney flew, 
The wide seas know it now! 

The mettle that a race can show 
Is proved with shot and steel, 
And now we know what nations know 
And feel what nations feel. 

The honoured graves beneath the crest 
Of Gaba Tepe hill 
May hold our bravest and our best, 
But we have brave men still. 

With all our petty quarrels done, 
Dissensions overthrown, 
We have, through what you boys have done, 
A history of our own. 

Our old world diff'rences are dead, 
Like weeds beneath the plough, 
For English, Scotch, and Irish-bred, 
They're all Australians now! 

So now we'll toast the Third Brigade 
That led Australia's van, 
For never shall their glory fade 
In minds Australian. 

Fight on, fight on, unflinchingly, 
Till right and justice reign. 
Fight on, fight on, till Victory 
Shall send you home again. 

And with Australia's flag shall fly 
A spray of wattle-bough 
To symbolise our unity -- 
We're all Australians now.