The story of the U.S.S. "Yosemite" in 1898, compiled from available records by Joseph S. Stringham.

THE U. S. S. "YOSEMITE"

He thumbed the gauges and spat on the guides that were hot as the hobs
of hell,
The bearings groaned and the pumps they moaned and chattered down in
the well.
The shells were shrieking overhead and the shrapnel screamed abeam,
The man on the bridge was calling down, "And how are you off for steamP"
And then he said: "Just shake her up and run full speed ahead."
The Chief yelled up the speaking tube and this is what he said,
"Remember the 'Maine' and to hell with Spain and this prehistoric craft,
You've plenty of speed but I need more feed and a pipe and an awning aft."
Our good old scow was wallowing 'round with her scuppers running red,
While the crew stood bravely to their task in a cruel rain of lead.
The captain shook his hoary head, strong men were seen to faint,
For one of Morro Castle's shots had hit a keg of paint.
The Chief stood bravely at his post and said, "This ain't no lark,"
And to his gallant force below, he made this trite remark,
"Remember the 'Maine' and to hell with Spain and this prehistoric craft,
What I need is speed and a class to lead and a pipe and an awning aft."
Then Captain Bill upon the bridge said, "Sailors, cease your fire.
I see the shattered Spanish fleet in terror now retire.
The memory of this well-won day, your country'll ever bless,
Laurels crown your noble brow; now bosum pipe to mess."
He telephoned the gallant Chief, he'd better go to bed,
The Chief then sent a message back, and this is what it said,
"Remember the 'Maine' and to hell with Spain and this prehistoric craft,
What I need is speed and plenty of feed and a pipe and an awning aft."
The war-scarred battle ship sailed away, to the islands of the Dane,
Where the war-scarred veterans drowned their cares on rum and cold
champagne.
The Dean went wandering ashore, at his ease on this Danish Isle,
"Yo Ho and a bottle of rum," says he, his face was wreathed in a smile.
"Now, this is the life for a sailor man, on a tropical Indian day;
And I sit at my ease and do as I please, it's this that I'll freely say,
'Remember the "Maine" and to hell with Spain and this prehistoric craft,
What I need is booze and a place to snooze and a pipe and an awning aft.'"
Now the Dean's ashore and will cruise no more
In the trades of the Caribbee.
His name and fame are spreading wide,
They stretch from sea to sea.
He will anchor down in a harbor snug
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