 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:58:56 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 153463
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => 800 MEN
[time] => 2009-09-21 05:05:14
[hometext] => HMS Royal Oak. Built by Laird at Birkenhead, was launched from Liverpool on the 5th November 1892 and commissioned at Portsmouth in January 1896.
[bodytext] => CHORUS Walking up the gangplank to a place we never knew So many of us left, we came back as so few A vision of the future burned within us as our goal Red hot driven metal were the rivets in our soul 800 Men and more left loved ones far behind 800 Men departed, not knowing what they’d find 800 Men departed with hope within their hearts But cathedral bells are ringing so the funerals can start I remember the day so clear in my mind you stood there, a glint in your eye Amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears, it felt like preparing to die Slowly the ship pulled away from the quay and I turned my back on my home And as they sailed me away to the war you or I never felt so alone As the natural fireworks of the Northern Lights lit up the open sea We said farewell to the Dock Road and sailed on down the Mersey I will write to thee a letter, love, when I have stories to tell If a man's a sailor he’ll get along, if not then be sure he’s in hell Captain Günther Prien entered Scapa Flow Gently steering his vessel not a ripple he did show Sometime after midnight, he emerged and set to slay Only one battleship and barge lay moored in the bay. CHORUS He approached the moored vessels just before 1am And fired the first of two salvos at them The Royal Oak, we assumed was immune to attack. But we were so wrong there was no going back The war was only just six weeks old As doomed sailors swam from portholes Into the pitch black freezing sea Determined but frantic they tried to swim free Prien returned to a hero's welcome, Some thanks you for turning the Oak to Bedlam But Admiral Blagrove - would never return. Now buried on Lyness, his candles still burn How our blood stained the decks like lambs to the slaughter In that mad mad world of spit, death and water. They gather each year to grieve, mourn and pity. But as year follows year, more disappear from the city [comments] => 1 [counter] => 172 [topic] => 57 [informant] => anthonygoodwinjnr [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => war )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com