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Lyrics
(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
Details
GeneratedFeb 21, 2026
Duration4:13
LanguageEnglish
Style
Dark Folk, Civil War Ballad, Banjo and Cello, Low Somber Male Vocals
Credits
Prompt by
HamCheck
HamCheckModelAria v5
