by Nick Delonas and Chris Midkiff
Vast ice floes gripped then crushed his ship.
Left Shackleton's cold crew adrift.
"Well, should we just lie down and die?" he cried,
"No! We'll set sail toward South Georgia isle.
Chip back the ice with your blistering hands.
If we meet our bitter end, boys,
we'll live in songs of our countrymen."
Two open boats carried them.
Fierce Antarctic gales beat the men.
"So will we each drown in a while?"
he said, "No. We'll yet get to South Georgia isle.
Pull up your mates from the frigid sea.
If we meet our bitter end boys,
we'll be legends of the century."
Icy seas had thrown them East but they find sand.
There the crew made camp of boat and sail.
Shackleton set off for help with five brave men.
Just those few set jib for Georgia Isle.
Eight hundred miles he would sail.
His boat swamped by ice and angry seas.
"We're not quite done fighting Hell boys.
Toss wet gear over and bail with me."
Landing at South Georgia Isle,
he scaled blue glaciers in search of men.
Weak and nearly froze he marched on
to find sweet warmth at the port station.
Soon he was back under sail,
to save his crew stranded out at sea.
"Are you safe" he cried, "and all well?"
"All safe sir," they replied, "and now free!"