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Battleship.

Chug along old friend,

someday you'll see the end,

days of rest on the quay,

maybe not as active as you'll be,

slowly now,

in you go.

 

One final bell,

one last whistle,

men salute,

the name is taken down,

now...

all you are is a relic...

a memory of past strength,

now a museum.

 

 

You had your day,

you won them long ago,

you took a lot,

you have a big bite,

now come,

into the quiet rest of harbour.

Time to go to sleep,

sleep now you old, old,

battleship.

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Written by
anderson-ritchie
Australian
Published
Sep 5, 2012
Lines·Words
23·92
Permission

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