Let's raise a glass and make a toast,
To the boys of five-five-o,
To those who came back, and those not so lucky,
All those years ago.

Through perilous and darkened sky,
Night after night the bombers would fly,
With hostile fire and fighter's guns,
Their welcome from the enemy's sons.

North Killingholme was their abode,
Off the old West middle Mere Road.
From where they'd fly, where they'd rest and play,
Where they'd live from day to day.

They faced dangers in the air,
No-one knows how they felt, only those that were there
'Through fire we conquer' was the motto they bore,
Through those long-ago, cold, dark nights of the war.

'Per ignum vincimus' was the Latin inscription,
Flames of fire with a sword was their badge's description.
For those who remain there are memories for sure,
Of friends that they knew , all of they had to endure.

Though the Squadron disbanded in '45,
There are those here today who keep the memory alive,
So we'll drink to the boys of five-five-o,
Who fought freedom's fight, all those long years ago.

To ex-sergeant Steve Green, Air Gunner with 550 squadron, and a tireless worker for the air-gunners association, Doncaster Branch