大象传媒

It was not the merry month of May, Over sixty years ago,
The 'phoney war' was ended, No more respite from our foe.
The Huns broke through the Allied ranks, And raced to the channel coast,
We had no answer to their tanks, 'Blitzkrieg' no idle boast!
Some of our remnants made the beach, But huddled in the sand,
There seemed no hope for them to reach, Blighty -their promised land.
The weather gave small boats one chance, The forecast still was good,
Brave crews were asked to sail for France And give what help they could.
This fleet of small craft was the key, Most ferried troops to ships
Under hostile fire from land and sea, They still managed countless trips.
The German planes were in command, And bombed our troops at will,
The shrill whine of diving Stukas, Haunts a few of our men, still.
Despite the hail of bombs and shells, The rescue went ahead
Of French and British Tommies, But still leaving many dead.
Thousands of desperate soldiers, By some military quirk,
Had escaped, as if by miracle,
From an open beach -Dunkirk.

Epilogue
It took four long years of planning, Before we returned to France,
This Armada used a longer route, With nothing left to chance!
This time, we took fresh comrades, More Canadians, and the Yanks,
They, too, lay down their precious lives, And earned this Nation's thanks.

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