Fifty Below Poem by Richard Anders

The ice the ice the crushing ice
our ship is held in a freezing vice
it`s fifty below N.W.of Nome
and some of the crew are crying for home

the fuel is low the food`s near gone
the men are gaunt just skin and bone
the captain`s dead we`re jammed on a floe
there`s nowhere to hide and nowhere to go

the howling wind from the frozen north
just blows and blows for all it`s worth
we`re all half dead (the Bo`sun`s gone)
who`ll be next in the arctic dawn?

a shout goes up there`s an eerie crack
the ice has split from front to back
'we`re drifting lads we`re drifting south'
the word goes round from mouth to mouth

let the north wind blow it`s on our side
it blows us south and it blows us wide
it blows us where we want to go
away from the Bering where it`s Fifty below!

R.Price(Anders) 1