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The decision had been made

We must leave this fatal shore

But at what cost to the Diggers

Three thousand, maybe four?

To leave dead cobbers behind

To go and fight in the real war

So many mixed emotions

For the Australian, New Zealand army corps

First steps had been taken

To deceive the now honoured Turk

For him to think we'll be staying

To continue the siege work

From high ground the Turks could see

A game of cricket of Shell Green

The running between wickets

Under shell fire 'What a scene!'

Diggers walking in circles

Carrying water for a laugh

The Turks spotted nothing unusual

Yet another classic bluff

ANZACs farewelled their fallen cobbers

For the time had finally come

To leave the place by boat

Kept warm by the nip of rum

Not a Digger killed

The Turks were truly deceived

Rifles still fired on the ridges

Time delayed rifles, who would believe.