Poem to Submariner Child * Pinging Pete Chidori * Happy Birthday

Pampanito * Pampanito II * Night before Diego * Galloping Ghost * Xmas

Submarine Sailors * The Last Patrol * Down off Kashi-Ho * For I am a Submariner

* The Ballad of the Blue Beret * Submarine * Remember * Shops of the Devil *

A hundred fathoms from the bottom And two hundred from the top We're a lot more scared of pressure Than the ash cans that they drop. (All our nice clean cork might crack) The lousy battery's gassing The sound gear's on the blink The fresh water line's discharging Fuel oil in the sink. (Couldn't fix it, Field Day) The cook is busy making stew The only meal he knows. And someone has the wash bowl Jammed with dirty clothes. (Never mind your face; clean the boat) We've tried to rise a little For a looksee and a shot. But the god-dammed boat won't surface And the torpedoes won't run hot. (Well it's clean, so there!) We've never even seen a Jap But all hands on board will swear We'll exterminate all nasty dirt, Fight a cockroach fair and square. We're the joy of the ladies, With this clean and spotless ship. But give your heart and soul to God, Because your ass goes to the Nip.   Gordon Hopper, USS Pampanito

BACK