It was just after sunrise
and down by the sea,
down on the sand flats
where nothing will grow,
come drumming and footsteps
like out of a dream
where the golden green waters come in.
just nine lucky soldiers
had come through the night,
half of them wounded
and barely alive.
just nine out of twenty
was headed for home
with eleven sad stories to tell.
I remember quite clearly
when i got out of bed,
i said, oh, good morning
what a beautiful day.