"Don't Strike the Colors"

She handled the storms,
And the wild seas of Cape Horn.
With new sails not yet worn,
Tahiti awaited us, not yet forlorn.

She was the love of our lives,
Our home on the sea.
She beckoned to us like our wives,
To fulfill our destinies.

She rode out well in Matavai Bay,
Accepted each swell in time,
Adjusting her rhythm each day,
She never complained, her copper stayed in line.

On our homeward bound voyage,
We lost her in the early light.
Released from her bondage,
By the mutineer's grip, not right.

Though we see her sail from sight,
On this rough trodden sea.
Adrift we have come to blight,
From the H.M.A.V. Bounty.

Where will she go?
What ships will she see?
What of her cargo,
All the breadfruit trees?

She's never struck her colors,
All these years at sea.
She served we, her sailors,
In the Navy of His Majesty.

As she sails away,
Her colors start to fade.
The sunlight of today,
Turns the sea to a dark shade of jade.

There goes our ship,
And all we brought along.
The prestige of her colors slip,
As the 'Jack' waves on.

She was the pride,
Of the Pacific Fleet.
Will she ever again ride the tide,
On the Thames as she creaks?

What will ever become,
Of our home on the sea?
Will she bear false witness,
Under her colors gleefully?

Plant her lady with a bonnet,
On a beach somewhere.
Do say a sonnet
If you will, a Bounty's prayer.

Mr. Christian, when you are through,
Set the main and jibs full.
Turn her loose before the wind too,
Chisel the names of each crewman on her hull.

She was our ship of pride,
She'll be sorely missed.
It's best we not know how she died,
In our hearts we can reminisce.

Don't strike 'the colors' please.
She's His Majesty's Ship.
Let her not suffer, put her at ease,
Good bye 'Bounty', you're on our lips.