As I stood on the quarterdeck these words came to me.
This was in the Sula Sea in 1964.
Burial at Sea
There under the ensign he lay
As the prayers and sermon were said.
I heard a voice inside me say:
“But surely he just can’t be dead”.
Yet under the ensign he lay,
Sewn in canvas with a large weight.
The knowledge I have to this day
Still tells me it was just his fate.
As we listened to the last post,
The bugler played the last note.
There off of that tropical coast
A lump seemed to choke in my throat.
His mangled remains were well hid,
Sewn in canvass with a large weight.
Then from under the ensign he slid,
Like others we had seen of late.
Yet, somehow things didn’t seem right.
I just wasn’t able to weep.
I saw as he sank out of sight
Sharks follow him down to the deep
© Trevor Morgan 1997
From: “Saga of Sabah”