She is small and slow and always challenging to ride,
    And all the time you served on her, you would deeply feel the pride.
She is like no other and though long gone, we ne’er will forget the sight.
    Because the MSO stood for what we always thought was right.

If you’ve never walked her wooden deck and felt her rise and fall,
    Then you’ve missed what sailors always seek, and that’s the ocean’s thrall.
If you’ve served aboard an MSO, felt the wallow and the strain,
    You know she does the best she can, to bring you home again.

Short but strong, made of wooded blanks and stainless steel,
    They roamed the seas. Given many tasks with which they had to deal,
But never once did these proud old ladies bend or shirk their assigned task.
    For over 50 years they worked and did everything their country asked.

Built and launched to save the sailors of the fleet,
    The wooden ladies seldom hesitated and ne’er knew defeat.
They knew their job and trained themselves to master all their skill,
    Because the MSO lives to make that rewarding, underwater kill.

Gone today because they served and had become too old,
    They will ne’er be forgotten by us, then young and bold.
We loved their sound, their rhythm and their grace,
    And nothing could compare with standing on her bow, the wind against your face.

Ships of wood and men of steel, that’s what they say.
    Many saw it as a joke, until we got under way.
But until you’ve ridden those ladies half way round the globe,
    You’ll never know what it’s like to think back, when you’re old,

"I rode a ship made of wood on the open sea
    And was called a man of steel. I just couldn’t have imagined that for me.
I rode her long and rode her hard and never did she fail.
    So you see, because she’s wood, doesn’t mean she’s frail."

Ships may come and ships may go and the fleet will carry on.
    But for those of us that sailed on wooden decks, they ne’er will be gone.
The MSO has served its time and so have I and you.
    Though off the lists and gone from sight, they’ll never leave our inner view.

They joke about the wooden ships and the iron men that served,
    But those of us that rode the wood, know it was deserved.
If you have never known the comfort that her soft, rhythmic motion brings,
    Like ships of old, the MSO wallows and it strains.

For many of us, an MSO was the only ship we would ride through Hades.
    May every man that served aboard these grand ladies,
Find great joy and comfort, as with pride he reflects,
    "We were the chosen ones, allowed to walk those wooden decks,

And became iron men to boot."