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Number Five Nineteen

They call her the Daly, NUMBER FIVE NINETEEN;
The best damned Tin Can ever seen.
When a commissioning pennant on her mast was raised;
Little did she know how her name would be praised.
She came through her shakedown, fit for a fight;
Then ordered to the Pacific and the battle of the right.
For twenty two months she came through it all;
Not a finger of enemy hands on her did fall.
She’s climbed the ladder reaching success at the top;
She’ll never go down to defeat as a flop.
Named after Dan Daly, an old time Marine;
There ain’t any red stripes running down her jeans.
Lets skip a lot to find her, her toughest campaign;
Okinawa Shima, beating the Japs into shame.
She came in on ”L” day, raising hell with the Beach;

Shooting shell after shell at targets within reach.
With our soldiers and Marines gone safely ashore;
She laid to and smiled, “no, give us more!”
You can’t beat the Daly, NUMBER FIVE NINETEEN;
The best damned tin can ever seen.

Just call her The Daly, NUMBER FIVE NINETEEN;
The best damned destroyer ever seen.
She’s always around when the going is tough;
Her guns belching flame, she likes to play rough.
On the 28th of April in ’45, as radar picket two’
She picked up the Bogies bearing __degrees true.
The range was reduced as the Jap planes came in;
She opened up with a five inch, a helluva din.
Those who got through the first wicked fire;
Were picked up by forties, right in the wires.
The twenties commenced firing right in the groove;
Four were knocked down, one still came through.
His course was straight as a die for the ship;
“Come on fellows, get that God damned Nip!’
Her guns couldn’t stop it, that suicide dive;
He came through her rigging, crashed on her side.
His bomb then exploded, delivering shrapnel and hell;
Hurting her boys, ones she knew well.
She shook off the blow, this NUMBER FIVE NINETEEN;
The best damned destroyer ever seen.

Just call her “Daly”, NUMBER FIVE NINETEEN
The best damned tin can ever seen.
Her casualty reports were sent in with speed;
Medical assistance was sorely in need.
One of her cronies, another “Can”;
Came over to help, like they do in a jam.
Breeches buoy was rigged, doctor came aboard;
Pharmacist mate in a few moments more.
Her own medical department with Doc Meeder in charge;
Had long since been working, doing a wonderful job.
Then came her orders to leave the scene;
Reporting to an area within the screen.
At twenty five knots she steamed on toward south;
Her crew cheered each other, by look and mouth.
She proved that through hurt, she was still in the fight;
Cause she fired at bandits way into the night.
At last came daylight, another new day;
Her gun crews were tired, had nothing to say.
Yea, call her The Daly, NUMBER FIVE NINETEEN;
The best damned tin can ever seen.

By the late William A. Boyland QM 1/C

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