A red tide of war arises upon reasons fatal fluxion,
Waves black with boats, a mass of guns and iron,
Holds filled with boys and men getting ready to rush upon body choked beaches,
Trembling with fear, they pray for Gods mercy or cry for their mothers.
It is dawn on D-Day and a dark day of atonement has now begun,
Its perilous birth baptised in fonts of blood, sweat and tears,
Where a hymn of hope, soft as a soldiers dying sigh, now eternally renews,
Amidst the wrecks and wave tangled wracks left by the ever turning tide.