There's a place not far from Ypres, sir,
To the eastward on the map.
The place is Warrington Road, sir,
Better known as "The Wooden Track."
And when they get the order
"Be ready, sharp, at nine,"
You'll see the drivers mounted,
And ready for the Line.
For the guns are always calling
For shells both night and day;
And as they near the place of fate,
They think of home, and pray.
They pray to God in Heaven
To bring them Safely back,
And give them courage
To get over "The Wooden Track".
'Tis then they need their courage,
As they gallop up the track;
Though shells fall round like hailstones,
There is no turning back.
Though tragic in its splendour
Is the scene that meets the eye,
The bravest and the best, sir,
Have gone there oft to die.
This is the place for heroes, sir;
May the story be ever new,
Of the Twenty-fifth Division,
Who wear the Red Horse Shoe.