Troop Ship - Poem by Charles Garcia
High on the crows nest an albatross.
All mariners know not to harm her
As she’s to bring good luck,
Queerly huddled many soldiers rest, on the ships decks, we huddle, lie in all sorts of ways rest our heads our life jackets act as pillows to rest our head.
Drop off into a doze, for we cannot sleep, the west wind sends a breeze against our face,
For we sail day and night, not knowing what our plight: :
The Captain of the ship knows where we shall alight. We must be cautious if we are to survive tonight.
As the submarines do their thing the sun sinks out of sight, for if we are to die, please “God” not at sea tonight.
The Albatross has left us, continues on her flight.
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