We came ashore with rifles high
From southern lands beneath red sky
The cliffs rose up like silent stone
And none of us would die alone

The air was thick with lead and flame
We carved our names, then lost the same
In muddy trench and broken ridge
No glory crossed that cursed bridge

Riders and ghosts, sons of the sand
We fell on shores of a far-off land
With bayonet dreams and flags held tight
We gave the dark our morning light

But down where dust turns gold at dusk
Where wells ran dry and hope was husk
The Light Horse charged through shot and flame
And thunder bore the ANZAC name

No swords were drawn, just guts and pace
A thousand hoofbeats split the haze
With water close and time run thin
They stormed the gate—and crashed right in

Riders and ghosts, wild in the sun
We rode for life, and bled as one
The old world watched, the empire swayed
But in that charge, a debt was paid

We fought for kings we’d never meet
But stood for brothers in the heat
From sea-soaked hell to desert flame
We lived, we died, we earned a name

Riders and ghosts, carved in sand
Still marching on in no man’s land
Their stories sung, their spirits free
Wherever courage meets history

And if you listen through the years
You’ll hear them charge between the tears