• A constant rain, but not of drops
    A constant rain, from munitions shops
    The ground is forever shaking, from that incessant roar
    A constant rain, of shells that soar

    They care not what they may hit
    The sick, the dying, the innocent
    The horror ensues, day after day
    At least until they make their play

    But wait, whats this? It rains no more
    This means one thing, we scramble from the floor
    We take up positions, rifles at the ready
    Another rain will ensue, one of gruesome confetti

    They throw themselves at us, like a great dark fist
    Yelling and screaming as they charge through the mist
    A rifle cracks, a machine-gun begins to chatter
    Real rain falls with a muffled pitter patter

    We hold the line, but at a great cost
    Many comrades lie dead, forever lost
    They turn and they run
    Our victory is won

    But I see not their pitiful flight
    For all I see is that Divine White Light