Swift and Bold (Celer et Audax)
No musket for such a man, bold and brave, swift as only a Rifleman can, deadly is his aim, his Rifle, his psyche, his game, a chosen man, strong and fit, can march for miles at a pace, and still his target hit.
The best of the best, an elite of force, such a man of strength, not many can last the course, no others march at the same pace, to be swift, but without haste, a Rifleman’s aim, is still a straight ace.
Individuals of men, working as a team, not clockwork soldiers, never forgotten once seen, brave by choice, in battle, they hear histories voice, a Rifleman is a Rifleman, in their blood it runs, like those of the past, chosen ones.
There is a pride, that they can not hide, a Rifleman, best be on your side, history shows how brave they be, regiment and Riflemen in battle, honoured constantly, the bravest of the brave, to them, the VC.
Stoic, where others may fall, a Rifleman obstinacy, his pace and marksmanship shocks all, the action is where he will be, not just a soldier, a Rifleman is he, he serves his country with pride, a Rifleman with rifle, from which you can not hide.
Men of valour, men of strength, men of the Rifle, there is no pretence, skilled with the Rifle of the day, skilled as their forefathers, with their Rifles, they would love to play.
Over the years the Regiments change, a name is a name, but the history is the same, from the 95th to the Rifles of today, Rifle Green worn with pride, in celebration of the Rifleman inside.
Of the Black Mafia, runs the corridors of power, Riflemen have the skills, in rank to climb higher, innovators of thought, new tactics, training, man management sort, the skill of a Rifleman second to naught.
When music you hear fast of pace, men in green marching, proudly determined of face, Riflemen they will be, the elite of the elite, the best of the British Army, to all that have fallen in places afar, your name remembered, for Riflemen you are.
Derrick W Sole