Top
title
div
Seafarin'
 
div
 
H.M.S. PRANG
by
Justin Richardson

Mine-sweeping brings the same delight
As mushroom picking, by and large
The crop that burgeons overnight
The search - the harvest (free of charge)
Lieutenant Platt chose this career
And nobly Whitehall played the game
They gave the ‘Prang’ the finest gear
And full instructions for same
A gallant ship, respectful crew
Devoted captain.......mighty fine
But - this was literally true
They’d never found a single mine
Not one. At every other base
A daily dozen strewed the path
But here, this desert of a place
Was safer than a baby’s bath
What made it ten times worse than that
A British minefield, richly stocked
Lay round the headland, and to Platt
It seemed those mines sat up and mocked
Yes, mocked him in their serried lines
With sneering unexploded grins
He raved, “You wait, you bally mines
You eggs! You wait and see who wins.”
The weeks, the months dragged on. His score
Remained consistently a duck
He couldn’t stand it any more
On June 6th he ran amuck
He’d show those mines what Prang could do
And charging down their ordered rows
He one by one (or sometimes two)
Dispatched them, shouting, “Up she goes”
He knew that this was....(Wallop)... sin
That he would probably ....(Bang) .... shot
But what of that? he eye was in
And he....(Crash).... detonate the lot
At last but one remained intact
Of all the plethora there’d been
He bumped it off and - this is fact
It bagged a German submarine.

This shows that Virtue’s just reward
May come by Many Devious ways
Alternatively, if you’re bored
Cut loose - it very often pays.
 
div
Base
Top
Seafaring
 
Return to
' SEAFARING '
Menu
 
div
 
Monologues Home
Music Hall Home
The Forum
Pencil Portraits
Pedro Postcards
Amazon Store
 
div
 
cdcd
 
cdcd
 
cdcd
 
div
nav-bot