At first they came in happy fright;
Those soldiers seeking for the night;
The darkness always hid the fight;
They knew for moment things were right;

But something happened not awaited;
For them that night was quite ill fated;
Rest, reprieve was not a’slated;
A perfect place was not created.

Down they threw upon the grasses;
While overhead the bomber passes;
Searching out his targets, gasses;
Distinguish not for men or lasses.

Desperately they tried the running;
With the orange clouds a coming;
While above the engines drumming;
Lives in each their minds a’summing.

Village lay in quiet slumber;
Locked away ‘hind secret tumbler;
Could they make it fore the rumbler?
Or aspirations to be humbler?

Knoll stuck out on left of sight;
There perhaps they might make flight;
And join in fear that olden wight;
Until outside did pass the blight.

The pounding overhead was heard;
While they uttered not a word;
Silent though it seemed absurd;
Feeling as a hated curd.

For village did they sacrifice;
Knowing that would be the price;
For them to fight, to roll the dice;
Through town the toxic gas would slice.

Passed that bombing day did go;
Though time from on of then was slow;
And soldiers ‘tended not to know;
What tally did their weakness show.

That village silent and alone;
Sits there still though war is done;
And pained soldiers home have gone;
C’ept for one who did stay on.

For lass he had there in that town;
A girl with hair of curls and brown;
Who waits, oh still o’er bridge and down;
Though never utters not a soun’.

He says they’ll meet again one day;
That if he waits she’ll come to play;
That if he stays so close she’ll say;
That what he’d done was all ok.
And awaiting, ever, did he stay.