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Circumstances justified our Jack for to stay,
His Father was ill and is still ill to-day,
The home ties were strong, but stronger the call,
Down went his old trombone, into line he did fall.

A soldier all ready Arch Blackshaw was born,
From a boy you could see it, so erect was his form;
He had medals for shooting, and medals for drill, .
With credentials enough a paper to fill

Ernie Maggs into mischief he always was found,
A joke for each lad the whole band around,
Like Rick was all smiles, I've ne'er seen him sad,
He's still making mischief for the Hun Eh, by  Gad.

Reg Brooker was one of those happy go Jacks,
With a laugh that ne'er dies it echoes right back,
He's been wounded in France his letters doth tell,
Went over to London to have a short spell.

Bill Crisphis the boy who whacked our big drum,
Who's now whacking Fritz and got him to run;
At home he sliced beef at Abel's meat shop,
He's gone to Berlin the Kaiser to chop.

There's dear old Bill Matthews the son of old Yank,
With a nature reserved, with the quiet would rank
But Will had the sense of honour and right,
I know he's the boy who for Belgium will fight.

Bill Farraher, a hard case as dry as a chip,
With a joke always ready on some one to tip,
No lagging from Bill he's right on the game,
He's ready when wanted he's always the same.

Ern Ellery left with New Zealand's brave boys,
From there he decided to be one of the toys,
He's fighting so bravely and still keeping well,
At the finish we pray the same story we'll tell.

Bob Toll our good scribe he felt he must go,
When some of our lads had got their death blow,
He left his dear wife and his boy here behind,
To fight for his country,'he's of the right kind,

There's little Jack Naylor, now Jack was a brick,
No mother to guide him his path he must pick,
He picked it well here now his officer writes,
That Jack is as brave as any that fights.

There's another good boy, it's poor old Alf. Bell,
From the first he's been fighting, I'm sorry to tell,
That twice he's been wounded and now should be home
Had a few more been ready to go o'er the foam.

The Prideaux's as sports are well known to the town,
At football, or golf, or at wrestling were found,
Our George, and our Will so sadly we miss,
But they thought as good sports the Kaiser they'd dish.

Billy Mitchell; this boy, he was a fair trick,
When just a wee kiddy a triangle he ticked,
Now Willie's a soldier, a bugler they say,
To the boys in the trenches the revielle doth. play.

George Roberts a lad both upright and straight,
One of those good sorts you'd like for a mate,
Whose word was his honour you could this depend.
And feel that in George you had a real friend.

Harold Purcell, the lad who tried hard to go,
To join the old boys he had not a show,
He got so disgusted that to T.I. he went,
Though France was his hobby on this he was bent.

And there with Tom Waddle they're doing their bit,
In watching the guns and keeping them fit.
These two are the last, but by no means the least,
If you sent them to France they'd think it a feast.

So that's where the boys of the old band have gone,
They saw the
strong, The city for help on these boys could depend
And fight for their country its honours defend.

A charge they have given and that must I do,
To Keep their band going though members be
few, Till the boys they come back no longer to roam,
Pray God may we see them together at Home.

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