One fifty-nine of empty posts
Haunted us through the mist
As the night moved off and the silver dawn
By sunrise just was kissed.
And through the chill of morning dew
Into the heat of the day
We sweated under ever tie
For the 32 of Kay.

The future line was clear to see
A long and empty line.
And the posts we knew we needed were
One hundred fifty nine.
But not a word of sloth or ire
Had any man to say,
As we slogged along in one desire
Toward the 32 of Kay.