HMS Scylla and Odinn collision (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Roger was 19 and flying high

An Air Force man in the sky

I was only five and still close to the earth

Who would guess there would be a rebirth?

Unexpected the local policeman did announce

Rough and unsympathetic, his life he did renounce

My Mother in her apron, with nine to count,

From her feelings, silently did dismount

In the plane with eight other young men

An engine exploded and took them to their end

For a week, five days no less

The bodies had been laid to rest

Near Iceland, in the cold Atlantic sea

No bodies to bring home, no way to set us free

All were dressed in black

As in the St. Michael’s Church we sat

A strange rectangular box in front

Draped with an American Flag, death hitting us blunt