(Verse 1) The boilers are screaming on a diet of slag and coal Fifteen hundred deck-hands just a-waiting for the roll. Steaming through the black-top on a zig-zag zig-zag line Looking for a periscope or the tether on a mine. The sonar’s got a "ping" and the "ping" is getting tight Target on the starboard side, creeping through the night. Somewhere in the basement where the pressure starts to cook Them U-boat bastards are a-looking for a hook. (Chorus) It’s a steel-on-steel scrap in the middle of the swell Forty thousand tons of iron making ready for a hell. Depth-charges off the rack, let the ash-cans fly Better them boys sinking than my brothers start to die. Got the Wolfpack circling, looking for a bite Dragging every one of us to the bottom of the night. Yeah, the dreadnought’s brawling and she’s swinging for the chin Waiting for the ocean-floor to take the losers in. (Verse 2) Then a bubble-track came whistling, hot and straight and fast The Captain called for "Emergency" and "Hard-to-Port" at last. The bulkheads started groaning, metal-fatigue and brine Trying not to let that tin-fish snap the ship’s own spine. We let the K-guns bark and we let the hedgehogs loose Trying to put a noose around a sub-sea phantom's goose. A grease-slick hit the surface with a mess of debris and oil Another bunch of sailors done with all their earthly toil. (Chorus) It’s a steel-on-steel scrap in the middle of the swell Forty thousand tons of iron making ready for a hell. Depth-charges off the rack, let the ash-cans fly Better them boys sinking than my brothers start to die. Got the Wolfpack circling, looking for a bite Dragging every one of us to the bottom of the night. Yeah, the dreadnought’s brawling and she’s swinging for the chin Waiting for the ocean-floor to take the losers in. (Bridge) It ain't a fair fight when you're punching at a ghost Just a game of who’s the lucky and who’s the one who’s toast. Keep the hatches battened and the steam-pressure high Keep a weather-eye open for a wake under the sky. (Chorus) It’s a steel-on-steel scrap in the middle of the swell Forty thousand tons of iron making ready for a hell. Depth-charges off the rack, let the ash-cans fly Better them boys sinking than my brothers start to die. Got the Wolfpack circling, looking for a bite Dragging every one of us to the bottom of the night. Yeah, the dreadnought’s brawling and she’s swinging for the chin Waiting for the ocean-floor to take the losers in. (Outro) Watch the "ping." Watch the line. Forty thousand tons. Running out of time

The Dreadnaught