High spirited, free thinkers all,
They thought they were indestructible.
No soft hands in this hard-driven crew,
Yet hearts as soft as mush at times.
They could cradle a baby to sleep
Or lend a shoulder to cry upon.
They might even shed a tear or two
When a friend crossed the bar.
It was a draft of cold beer for them,
Not that pink champagne bubbly stuff.
Their bosses did not order,
But asked for their help
Because every job was finished right.
They were proud of their unique skills
Used in repairing those battered war-torn ships.
Please! No applause is needed here.
But old Father Time brooks no denial—
Their ranks dwindle one by one
Until there may not even be a memory left.
Will anybody remember the one called “Rock”?
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