Our Hopes, Our Thoughts

Our hopes, our thoughts, are for the weal of our dear native land,
Our bodies form the rampart strong to guard our frontier strand.
We're Ottomans — a gory shroud our robe of honour grand.
"God is Most Great!" we shout in rush and charge on field of fight,
We're Ottomans! our lives we give, our gain is glory bright.

The name of Ottoman with terror doth the hearer thrill;
The glories of our valiant fathers all the wide world fill;
Think not that nature changeth — nay, this blood is yon blood still.
"God is Most Great!" we shout in rush and charge on field of fight,
We're Ottomans! our lives we give, our gain is glory bright.

A sabre on a blood-red field — our banner famed behold!
Fear in our country dwelleth not, in mountain or in wold:
In every corner of our land croucheth a lion bold.
"God is Most Great!" we shout in rush and charge on field of fight,
We're Ottomans! our lives we give, our gain is glory bright.

Then let the cannon roar, and shower its flames on every side!
For those our brothers brave let Heaven ope its portals wide!
What have we found on earth that one from death should flee or hide?
"God is Most Great!" we shout in rush and charge on field of fight;
We're Ottomans! our lives we give, our gain is glory bright.