| For
England
~*~ Dear Mother please dry your tears, Though I am a lad of tender years, And yes barely sixteen now in forty-two, This war drags on, we’ll see it through. ~*~ Turned away by her majesty’s army, As well the marines, air force, and navy, Few options left to serve the cause, The merchant marine took me without pause. ~*~ Aboard this vessel, I proudly serve, I do my best to keep my nerve, On the wolf packs I try not to dwell, Fear haunts us all but we won’t tell. ~*~ The engine room feels like Hades fire, This oily air is ever thin and I quickly tire, Engines roar rips then numbs my mind, But Mother my mates are the best you could find. ~*~ In convoys we creep across this ocean gray, Each moment an eternity, each second a day, Below the surface the hungry beast waits, Each of us privately contemplating our fates. ~*~ Our time has come, our luck run out, Struck amidships we scramble and shout, Split asunder in sweeps the frigid sea, On bitter waves crest it carries me. ~*~ I weep aloud, Icy cold shocks to my very core, From sight our valiant ship slips forevermore, All round I hear my mates cries and wails, My strength slipping my arms begin to fail. ~*~ Dear Mother dry your tears, it is silent now, Nor useful to dwell on why or how, Remember it is England we fight to save, Feeling no more I slip numb beneath the waves. ~*~ Fini ~*~ 
S. L. Keck 8/1/99 |
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