“Malta Convoy” Francie? Smith and John Christie, Gibraltar August 1942 I have been unable to discover anything about the writers of this poem beyond the names themselves which might be the names of the collectors of the poem or the poets themselves. Our gallant Malta still stands fast, a fact our foes will rue, But guns and planes and ammunition must keep going through. The Huns and Wops have done their best to make her bite the dust, But Malta stands the champion of all that’s right and just. One August day a convoy sailed to answer Malta’s plea The escort was the greatest force that ever put to sea. The battleships were NELSON and the mighty RODNEY too, And aircraft carriers, five in all, a glorious sight to view. INDOMITABLE, FURIOUS, VICTORIOUS and **** too, With EAGLE bringing up the rear, how proud their ensigns flew, And seven cruisers, KENYA, CAIRO, PHOEBE, CHARYBIDIS, NIGERIA, SIRIUS and MANCHESTER – a thrill I wouldn’t miss. And thirty-one destroyers screened this mighty naval force, A screen of ocean greyhounds, fit to guard our eastward course. This force will surely reach in spite of Wops and Huns And bring to Malta all she needs to feed her hungry guns. We reached the Med. in dead of night and passed on through the Straits, And every man is ready for the hell we know awaits. There’s something fine about this force that steams with baited breath, Towards the east and heading into the jaws of death. The Wops have called this sea their own and this they try to prove, When all at once a sub appears and things begin to move. The EAGLE is torpedoed and that gallant ship goes down, For her the war is over but she’s won undying fame. The tension now is broken and for that we are mighty glad, The EAGLE’s loss is felt by all but now we are fighting mad When the bombers come at last we give them all we’ve got, For every man has made a vow to cancel that first blot. We keep them off throughout the day and shoot down seven at least, And all the time we are creeping on and on towards the East. The night is short and soon the dawn is on us once again, It shows the upturned faces of our eager, watching men. We aren’t disappointed for with the morning’s first faint light, The first attackers show themselves within our straining sights. Once more our guns are roaring, spitting forth their streams of death, And on that morning many a Nazi breathed his dying breath
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