Monday, June 17, 2013

‘Twas a moonlight night on the sixth of May.
As our way to the shelters we hurried,
Not a word was spoke, as we rushed down the slope,
And into the tunnel we scurried.

When we got inside we looked for a place,
But hundreds had been there before us,
So we sat on the ground, with our backs to the wall;
While we tried to join in a chorus.

Some people were there, in a stale of despair,
And the Press had said “we could take it.”
But to tell you the truth, which always stands best;
We all went there to escape it.

Just the night before, the blitz took it's toll,
So plenty in there were in sorrow,
But we all sat tight, for the rest of the night,
Though we anxiously thought of the morrow.

Then just about midnight the firing began,
And the look-out man shouted, “They're over !”
When the first bomb fell- down, we lay on the ground;
Because we were told to take cover.

As we all lay there, not a word was heard,
Still I felt some were prompted to pray,
Protect us, O God, in this tunnel to-night,
Keep us safe till the down of the day.

When we rose to our feet and looked - towards the West,
With our eyes we could plainly descry,
The bomb got it's target, the Distillery hit,
And the flames had lit up the sky.

This gave them a light, for the rest of the night,
Then incendiaries fell in galore,
And when bombs whistled, down, and exploded all round,
We thought, we'd see Greenock no more.

About six in the morning we left our retreat,
But I felt each had something in mind,
Because we all thought on the fate of our town;
And the loved ones whom some left behind.

So when we came down, in view of our town,
We were met, with a sorry procession,
For hundreds of people, were walking about;
Who had lost, all their worldly possessions.

Enough has been said, still we think of the dead,
And the loved ones they all left behind.
May God, in his mercy, protect them from harm,
And banish cruel war for all time.

And remember all those who are doing their bit,
In the air, on the land, and on sea,
And to those who come home, when the fighting is done;
May this country be grateful to Thee.

Thomas Murphy

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