In Loving Memory Of
John Joseph Quann Sr 1898 - 1976
John Joseph Quann Jr 1922 - 1995
Francis William Quann 1924 - 1944
We landed in France on the Sixth day of June,
We landed just after the descent of the moon;
We landed on sand that was glistening white,
But was littered with dead ere the coming of night.
The Army, the Navy, the Air Force on high,
Raised a din that could be heard, near and nigh;
The Jerries were nervous as any could see
But they were no more nervous than my buddies and me.
On, ever onward our forces did toil,
To wrest from the Germans a little more soil;
That morn was horrible, to horrible to tell,
Like the tortures thought up by the devil in hell.
There were many brave men died on that fateful morn,
When hopes of a lost people were again reborn,
And we must see that they died, not in vain,
Or the horrors of that morn will be re-lived again.
Maybe not by you or by me,
But by our children whom we fought to keep free;
So let us pray to God, each day,
That hence forth our lives would be lived, His way.
Composed by John Joseph Quann Jr, Glace Bay, NS
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