Poem about the Hood

[John A Silkstone]

This poem is by Mike Hill and is featured in this month's magazine of Military and Aviation Book Society Members' issue.

If a ship ever died in action, it surely was the Hood, at his post,
without exception, every man aboard her stood.

In an instant it was over, and the great grey ship was gone,
Now only in the hearts of men, does her legend still live on.

Eternal darkness, two miles down, now hides her from our eyes.
On the cold and silent ocean floor, the fallen giant lies.

No bloody wars or surface storms , disturb her far below,
beyond the reach of man she rests, where the living cannot go.

But now, six decades later, from the mighty ocean deeps,
come haunting poignant images, of the place where Hood now sleeps.

The graceful bow, upon its side, the anchor chain unwound.
The gleaming silver bell, that's destined never more to sound.

Seaboots, and a broken plate, bear witness to the cost.
For here, within this riven hull, fourteen hundred men were lost.

Then leave them here in solitude. Let them rest in peace.
Until the rolling seas run dry, or wars upon them cease.