We, the haters of war,
Its folly and its waste;
Cry to the builders of ships,
Cry to the makers of guns:
Haste!
Lest the words, "It is ours!"
Be but an empty boast --
Empty the sunlit miles,
Empty the dreaming coast.
If you would keep your land,
Pinewood, and gum and palm,
We, the haters of war,
Cry to the nation, "Arm!"
Let our air fleets gather and wing
High in the dazzling blue;
Defence, for the homes we love,
The creeds that our fathers knew
Lest over the peaceful seas,
Over the coralled coast,
Threaten the alien hordes,
Threatens the robber host!
Tall are our city towers,
Pride to our hearts they give:
Ours is the right to own,
Ours be the right to live!
We, the haters of war!
Its horror, its bitter waste,
Cry to the builders of ships,
Cry to the makers of guns:
"Haste!"
First published in The Courier-Mail, 16 December 1933
