Once upon a midwatch dreary, while I nodded bleak and bleary Over many a midwatch that had passed for me before
Suddenly there came a banging, little more than common clanging, nonetheless a new haranguing
Haranguing me at ten to four Only that to break the bore
This new sound that came to flaunt me, probably harass and haunt me
Grew in size and magnitude nearing that of a dull roar
Now I noticed a vibration, quite unlike a known sensation, causing me some great frustration
Here on watch at five to four
Drowsiness I had no more
As I looked at my surroundings searching for this noise astounding I noticed that the port TG had come apart both aft and fore
As I watched the rotor turning, everything near by was churning, Manuevering was now just learning
From my report they knew the score “The port TG was lost at four.”
It carved a path of great destruction, slowing down for no obstruction It now was moving forward. the bromide was to be no more
There was a sound not far from thunder, 6SB was ripped asunder approaching nearer would be a blunder
I kept my distance at Maneuvering’s back door My eyes were fixed on the scene before
The bromide stood its ground quite firmly, swaying little and holding sternly
The port TG had taken on a foe that it could not ignore
In the glances I could snatch, the bromide stood without a scratch, the port TG had met its match
It coasted down and settled to the floor
I checked the time: ten past four.
In the state of near confusion, I knew that it was no illusion The port TG had shown that it was rotten to the core
There it lay, beyond repair, the rotor out and stripped quite bare, knowing that we had no spare
I noted in the logs at four Just a drill and nothing more.
