Thanks to Jack for emailing me the picture, here are the lyrics to "The 7th Scottish Rifles Glorious Charge", written by "Private James Floyd -- Killed in Action at the Dardenelles." It does not include the year of publication. Just under the attribution is the word "FLOOD" which I assume is the publisher? I have typed it up exactly as printed.

The 7th Scottish Rifles Glorious Charge
(Pvt. James Floyd)

It was on June the Twenty-Seventh,
Just at the close of day,
We paraded at our rest camp,
Prepared to move away.

We all moved off in single file,
Eager to take our spell,
Up in the British firing-line,
Under shot and shell.

Next morning just at Eight o'clock,
The roar of a mighty gun,
Was the signal to us all,
The bombardment had begun.

We hurried with our breakfast,
And soon we were all ready,
With bayonets fixed we all stood,
And every man was steady,

The Artillery and the Navy,
Set all their guns to work,
And did some awful damage,
To poor old John the Turk.

Of course the Turks they shelled us,
And did it very badly,
And for the name of King and Country,
We all stood it gladly.

But soon this work did tell its tale,
For on the ground were lying,
Some poor lads who had been struck,
And some of them were dying.

This kept up for hours,
And we knew full well,
We had the great experience,
To have the glimpse of hell.

Just at Eleven to a minute,
Our hearts were growing large,
For we knew the next thing was,
To have a gallant charge.

Just then we leapt the parapet,
To meet a hail of fire,
From the Turkish rifles,
But we would not retire.

When we got the first Turkish trench,
They then threw bombs to perfection,
Lance Corporal Ross won his D. C. M.,
By saving the lives of his section.

The Colonel and Adjutant,
And two platoons of men,
Were looked for all along the line,
But found to be missing then.

We held the trenches we had gained,
With all our main and might,
And the word was passed along,
We'd be relieved at night.

We got back to our rest camp,
Very tired and sore,
We knew we had done our work,
Our first great charge was o'er.

Early the next morning,
When we called the roll,
It was then we realized,
We had paid a heavy toll.

We lost a lot of comrades,
Very true and brave,
Away out there in Turkey,
In their lonely graves,

We are sorry for their mothers,
Wife, comrade, or friend,
Of the wounded fellows.
And those who met their end.

We like the work we've got to do,
Because our fears diminished,
And hope that we will get revenge,
Before the war is finished.