He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Tank Moving Day.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Tank Moving Day.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words—
Sid the King, Harvey and O’Conner,
And Brave Larwill Junior of Forest Creek —
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And International Tank Moving Day shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in Castlemaine, or Melbourne now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Tank Moving Day.

Sid Larwill