Engines silent, prayers shared, as oxygen masks deploy,
Speedbird 9, a Boeing proud, across Indonesian sky,
Jakarta's lights now beckon bright, a lifeline in the gloom,
Touchdown safe on runway's grace, a cheer erupts on board,
Moody's voice, a soothing balm, as normalcy's restored.
Captain Moody at the helm, with Greaves and Townley-Freeman too,
"We have a small problem. All four engines have stopped, I fear.
Then Three, then Two, and last comes One – reprieve from deathly strife.
Speedbird 9, a legend born, of ash and engine's roar,
At twenty-three thousand feet, Engine Four comes back to life,
Each foot of altitude so precious in this desperate hour.
Passengers brace for impact there, while crew their skills employ.
Moody's wit defies the gloom, his crew works tirelessly.
Descending through the inky black, they fight to restart power,
Moody guides his crippled bird, averting certain doom.
Four flameouts in the dead of night, a pilot's nightmare tale.
To Perth from London, via all, two hundred forty-eight lives high.
Of pilot's skill and crew's resolve, when death knocked at their door.
We're doing our damnedest to get them going again, I trust you're not in too much distress."
For Moody, Greaves, and Townley-Freeman, our gratitude we raise,
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," cool and clear,
A gliding jumbo, silent now, beneath the starry sea,
The day the sky turned perilous, and coolness saved the day.
St. Elmo's fire dances bright, then engines start to fail,
But fate would test their mettle soon, as volcanic ash blew through.