oh, where are your little ship,
We are waiting for our little ship,
and when you didn’t make a trip,
OH, how we miss our little ship.
The little ship was homeward bound,
when
its engines had broken down,
Far across the temperamental seas
Bringing us butter, milk and cheese,
The island folks hoped and prayed,
sadden that their ship was delayed,
They hoped that in a while,
Their ship would sail back to their isle.
From the beer that we drink to our daily bread,
Hungry mouths to be fed,
From the foods that we love, to whatever we crave,
without our ship, we might all starve. Dorothy maude
I wrote this poem almost 25 years ago when the R .mS ST Helena had indeed broken down.