The British Infantry Re; stationed at Aden is six hundred stra The invariable subject of conversativs deliverance.
Barren to right of us, barren to left of us, Barren in front of us, desolate Aden A year on this shore we cry, Not ours to question why Not ours to make reply.
But ours to live—or die Here at the mouth of the Pit, Aden six hundred.
Barren to right of us, barren to left of us—Wilderness! Wilderness! Desert of Ishunael.
No tree by zephyr stirred, No beast o' the field, no bird, Save vulture to pass the word Of a death in the camel herd.
Here at the mouth of the Fit, Aden six hundred.
Barren to right of us, barren to left of us Oh for the green of our far away Homeland.
Gray in the crater of hell Frown the lava rocks that tell Of the blood of Infidel, Of the blood of Turk as well. Here at the mouth of the Pit, Aden six hundred.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.