A Glory Lights The Skies Of Flanders Where The Blood-Stained Fields Lie Bare, Where The Clouds Of War Have Gathered, Built Their Parapets In The Air; Halted Stands The Teuton Army, Checked Its Onslaught At A Sign; Forward Roll The Warlike Forces, Sons Of Canada In Line. Let Them Taste Of Northern Courage Where The Lordly Maple Grows; Let Them Face The Heroes Nurtured Where The Stars Have Wed The Snows; We Are Sons Of Sires Undaunted, Children Of The Hills And Plains; Ours A Courage Born Of Duty, Pluck And Dash Of Many Strains. Tell It To Our Children'S Children How Canadians Saved The Day; Write It With The Pen Of History, Sing It As A Fireside Lay; How At Langemarck In Flanders, Though The Odds Were Eight To One, Our Canadians Stood Unbroken, Sword To Sword, And Gun To Gun. For Sir Wilfrid Laurier.