May our banner bright and our wings so light
Be forever flying high!
As the thermals grace any Breegull's face,
We are kings of land and sky!

Like a snow-white dove as we glide above
Clearest stream or foulest bog;
In hirundine flight through a starless night
Undeterred by storm or fog!

Bree, bree, bree is our call
As we o'er the mountains soar;
Bree, bree, bree, as we keen
For the souls that have gone before!

Bree, bree, bree is our call
Ringing through our fairest shore!
Bree, bree, bree, as we keen
For the souls that have gone before!