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Our hopes were so low, as we stood on that shore,
Our homes in Old England, we thought we'd see no more,
For half a million men were there, with straggly beards and unkempt hair never having had a chance,
Since we landed on the shores of France.

The Nazi pounded us morning and night,
Though try as we would, we could not stem his might,
Betrayed we had been and deserted it seemed,
No hopes of rescue for us ever beamed
Surrender, well we never gave it a thought
As onward and onward we gallantly fought.

Dunkirk was ablaze, had been burning for days
Cut off we all were in several ways
Sleep was a thing unheard of for weeks
The water we drank was from dirty foul creeks.
As for washing, oh dear, well we'd no time to spare,
As we hurried and scurried around any where.

A miracle happened, a slim little chance
Was to take us away from that hell hole in France,
As our navy, those fine lads who are in navy blue
Came across in destroyers and e'en rowing boats too,
To help us away from that terrible place,
In spite of the dangers they knew they would face.

We waded as far as we possibly could,
Whilst around us the sea was a mass of men's blood
Of men who had lived and had died for their land,
Had been taken away, not deserted our band.
To leave them behind in a land far away
From their homes and their people and everything gay.

Frenchmen and Allies struggled there in the sea
The burning thought of each of us was to be
Away from that port of destruction so grim
Whilst we were still sound in both body and limb
But only so many got away safe and sound
For hundreds were wounded or captured or drowned.

The boats they came, and then went away,
The rest, 'poor devils' destined to stay
A short while longer in that 'living hell'
The strong survived, the weak just fell
With nothing to eat and no chance to sleep
A wonder they managed their senses to keep.

Then when all their hopes had almost gone,
A boat came in and they staggered on
A motley crowd or so it seemed
On whom Dame Fortune had kindly beamed
They thought themselves lucky, to be safe and sound
Instead of being wounded or captured or drowned,

Tightly packed then the boat set sail
Precious cargo of lives in a vessel so frail
As she headed out to sea once more
To leave behind the fateful shore
Of sand and dunes and poor wretched souls
Of English, French,and Czechs and Poles.

The white cliffs of Dover appeared in sight
So the men yelled out with all their might,
While some got down on their knees to pray
To bless the Lord for that wonderful day
And for their escape from a foreign grave
And for the rest of the men this boat might save

June 1940 (Carter Camp Bulford)

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