“Oh, it’s hard and dry, when the sun is high,
And the dust in your throat.
When the rain pours down, near fit to drown,
And soaks right through your coat.
But the hares of the long patrol,my lads,
Stothearts they walk with me,
Over hill and plain, and back again,
By the shores of the wide blue seas.
Through mud and mire to a warm campfire,
I’ll trek with you, old friend.
O’re lea and dale, in a roaring gale,
Right to our journey’s end.
Yes, the hares of the long patrol, my lads,
Love friendship more than gold.
We’ll share good days, and tread long ways.
Good comrades brave and bold.”
Mariel of Redwall, Brian Jacques