The desperate fight is lost; the battle is done.
The brown lean ranks are scattered to the breeze.
Their cherished weapons rusting in the sun.
Their moldering guidons hidden by the leaves.
No more the men who did not fear to die
Will plug the broken line while through the din
Their beaten comrades raise the welcome cry,
“Make way, make way, the Scouts are moving in!”

The jungle takes the long defended lines
The trenches erode; the wires rust away,
The lush dank grasses and the trailing vines
Soon hide the human remains of the fray.
The Battle ended and the story told
To open to the Scouts as they unfold
The tired little soldiers enter in.

The men who were besieged on every side
Who knew the dissolution of retreat
And still retained their fierce exultant pride
And still were soldiers—even in defeat,
Now meet the veterans of ten thousand years
Now find a welcome worthy of their trade
From men who fought with crossbows and with spears
With bullet and with arrow and with spade.

The grizzled veterans of Rome built upon
The Death-head horde of Attila the Hun
The Yellow Horror of the greatest Khan
The guardsmen of the First Napoleon
All the men in every nameless fight
Since first Man strove against Man to prove his worth
Shall greet the tired Scouts as is their right
No finer soldiers ever walked the Earth.

And then the Scouts will form to be reviewed
Each scattered unit now once more complete
Each weapon and each bright crisp flag renewed
And high above the cadence of their feet
Will come the loud clear virile welcoming shout
From many throats, before the feasts begin,
Their badge of Honor mid their comrades rout—
“Make way, make way, the Scouts are moving in!”