no count of years may still the hand of fate but yet the kindly sunrise eases pain as those who fought arise to fight again with little rancour and without debate for once removed the horrors cease to grate on any soul and thereβs no longer strain when each of us can see the future plain and know that weβre the owners of the state this is the promise made by those who sleep beneath our soil whose lives gave ours full worth that a bright morning would our people see not as a flock of tired and hungry sheep but as a folk in fullest time of mirth enjoying every taste of liberty