He did not shrink from duties call
for King and country gave his all,
when in the battle he did fall
and was buried in the deep.
He’s been there now for many a year
he cannot see, he does not hear,
safe in the ocean’s keep.
Even the gulls cry overhead
does not disturb his watery bed
he is so very very dead,
down in his watery sleep.
He has no child to count the cost,
no tombstone with a carven cross.
Only his widow feels the loss
of her sailor boy in blue.
A flowery wreath on a windswept sea
on his anniversary,
he’s nought but a distant memory
to those who held him dear.