Apon the Chiefs cabin door did bang the Er rating,
Quick down below he cried, its all apon the plating.
The chief ran down to down below and sure enough did spy,
The conrod and crosshead he did see through his right eye.
A detailed close up of the rod
Did depict a blackened dirty twisted sod
And to the hole up in the block he at once did state,
It's all a mess but as for now make up a blanking plate
As to the block his practiced eye did see the answer to the holes
It's yet another job for Belzona and his trusty souls.
The two pack sealer he did mix and stick into the hole,
A plate was made to seal the damage, a seal up role.
A drill and here he did decry, we have to tap,
And clear the swarf and all that crap.
No blind hole bottoming is required in the crankcase casting
For the job it must be everlasting.
Up to the hole the plate did fit
And all the sealant bit by bit.
Apon a start up he did see
No oileaks misting there would be.
So off to home the ship did bonk
On only five now it did honk.
On Five buckets in line versus six it now did run
But what the hell, at least it was more fun.
Now in conclusion the chief said no matter where we roam,
We 're fed up, fucked up and far from home.
Remembering The Good Old days, when Chiefs stood watches and all Torque settings were F.T.