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.
The end