Remembering the Maine

On a quiet night in Cuba, in old Havana town,

The Skipper and the crew began to settle down.

She was there to show the flag while Cuba fell apart.

With Insurrectos striking at its Spanish heart.

As the Maine lay sleeping, there came an awful roar,

Then the sky was filled with shards of steel and gore.

Two hundred sixty-eight lay dead at Cuba’s door,

Enough to grieve a nation, enough to start a war.

The people wanted answers, the Navy formed a board.

The Yellow Press touted, It’s war we’re headed toward.

If it were an accident, things would all be fine,

But the Navy said that it was a Spanish mine.

McKinley got down on his bended knee,

And pleaded with the Lord, What course would it be?

Like an answered prayer, he saw the Light that day.

Soon, the fleet was headed into Manila Bay.

And Teddy and his Roughies sailed down Cuba way.

And charged up Kettle Hill, cuz it was in their way.

In three short months, the Spanish realm was gone,

The US held world power as the century dawned.

A decade or so later, they floated up the Maine,

And proclaimed again, that she was sunk by Spain.

They took her mast to Arlington, where it stands today,

Waving Old Glory when the breezes make it sway.

It was a pretty story of sacrifice we learned.

Remember the Maine and the night that she burned.

Believing it was true filled us all with pride,

But sometimes the truth is something you can’t hide.

Eighty odd years later, the board convened again,

To examine the facts from a way back then.

It was no Spanish mine that left her broke and bent,

A coal fire by the powder, it was an accident.

The moral of this story is, when you go to war,

Make sure that the cause is worth the fightin’ for.

LDT March 22, ‘26

Published by thillld