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How I often think about that fateful morn

Our hearts to be broken, all hope forlorn

On a fog shrouded morning the Thresher headed for sea

The date was April 10th, Nineteen Sixty Three

She was sleek and fast; a proud ship was she

1st in her class, her number 593

With her faithful sub tender, skylark in tow

To test depth that morning the Thresher would go

Skylark to Thresher… "Are you ok?"

Thresher to Skylark… "Having troubles today"

Skylark to Thresher… "Are you still there?"

Nothing from Thresher but bubbles of air

With a loud clap of thunder, her fate was sealed

What happened to Thresher would not be revealed

One hundred and twenty-nine men … on a ship in harms way

Their God, they would meet, before the end of the day

6,000 feet and more the Thresher lay deep

An ocean of tears her families would weep

Thresher lay in pieces .. on the ocean floor

Those fine handsome sailors forever no more

Her end was violent and quick we are told

'Twas thought with this, our hearts be consoled

Did you have time to think or a chance to pray?

Had you any idea what fate held that day

Wives, sons and daughters, uncles and aunts too

Waited on shore and prayed for you

The news came slowly and when it did, it was grim

All souls lost! … My thoughts were of him

No gravesite to visit, not a body to grieve

No respite from anguish, no sorrow's reprieve

You were thirty-four and me just one

A heavy burden to bare, for a life just begun