Snow clouds hang like canopies forlorn,
Tinged with grey from lack of proper care,
While from the Channel sing the dread foghorns
Sailors in the night long for new dawn
Fear boats of refugees may still sail there
Snow clouds hang like canopies well torn
A dinghy holds the Saviour lately born
There is no space on earth safe from great fear
F rom the Channel sigh the families drowned
From maternal’ space, Jesu is torn
His father holds his arms around those dear
Snow clouds hang, are lacy wings no more
The hearts of British ” natives” have turned sour
Into Jesu’s side we thrust our spears
Tune the channel.Requiems need scores
All lives now, and all of time is here
Do not mistake the song of silent choirs.
Snow clouds hang like canopies forlorn,
While in the Channel, reckless are the horns
