Free To Roam
A warship she is, this ship of gray,
Underway, underway, making way.
The decks vibrate, the tone, the sound,
Un-der-way-un-der-way, the pistons pound.
On the horizon stands a singular mast,
Un-der-way-un-der-way, make her fast.
Increase her speed, begin the turn,
Un-der-way-UN-DER-WAY, prop and churn!
Balanced and deadly the guns do slew,
UN-DER-WAY-UN-DER-WAY, the radars too.
Fire first one, then pour on the rounds,
UN-DER-WAY-UN-DER-WAY, competing sounds!
Blast and shards upon the bow,
Into the waves strike and plow,
UN-DER-WAY-UN-DER-WAY, welds and steel.
UN-DER-WAY-UN-DER-WAY, man on keel.
UN-DER-WAY-UN-DER-WAY, oil n’ fire.
UN-DER-WAY-UN-DER-WAY, smoke n’ ire.
On the horizon the mast a tilting,
Over the side the splashes wilting.
Now all alone is this warship’s sound.
Un-der-way-un-der-way, the pistons pound.
Turn hard then steady, away from home.
Underway, underway, my ocean to roam.
Copyright © Jerry Hackett | Year Posted 2018
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