MANILLA BAY by ARTHUR HALE

FROM keel to fighting top, I love
Our Asiatic fleet,
I love our officers and crews
Who'd rather fight than eat.
I love the breakfast ordered up
When enemies ran short,
But most I love our chaplain
With his head out of the port.

Now, a naval chaplain cannot charge
As chaplains can on land,
With his Bible in his pocket,
His revolver in his hand,
He must wait and help the wounded,
No danger must he court;
So our chaplain helped the wounded
With his head out of the port.

Beneath his red and yellow,
At bay the Spaniard stood
Till the yellow rose in fire
And the crimson sank in blood.
And till the last fouled rifle
Sped its impotent retort,
Our chaplain watched the Spaniard
With his head out of the port.

Then here's our admiral on the bridge
Above the bursting shell;
And here's our sailors who went in
For victory or hell,
And here's the ships and here's the guns.
That silenced fleet and fort;
But don't forget our chaplain
With his head out of the port.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...