In the stillness of the morning,
The acrid gunfire smoke still hangs.
No more crying of the wounded,
No more the screaming shells and bangs

Just the smell of death and carnage
And twisted bodies of the dead
In a field somewhere in Arnhem
Covered now in Airborne Red

No more the sounds of aeroplanes
No more parachutes now in sight
Just the toll of death and carnage
Of this a savage bloody fight

In a field somewhere in Arnhem
The twisted bodies of the dead
In a field somewhere in Arnhem
Covered now in Beret Red.