The decision had been made
We must leave this fatal shore
But at what cost to the Diggers
Three thousand, maybe four?
To leave dead cobbers behind
To go and fight in the real war
So many mixed emotions
For the Australian, New Zealand army corps
First steps had been taken
To deceive the now honoured Turk
For him to think we'll be staying
To continue the siege work
From high ground the Turks could see
A game of cricket of Shell Green
The running between wickets
Under shell fire 'What a scene!'
Diggers walking in circles
Carrying water for a laugh
The Turks spotted nothing unusual
Yet another classic bluff
ANZACs farewelled their fallen cobbers
For the time had finally come
To leave the place by boat
Kept warm by the nip of rum
Not a Digger killed
The Turks were truly deceived
Rifles still fired on the ridges
Time delayed rifles, who would believe.
