The Song of the Gunners Mate

Listen, my shipmates and you shall hear A tale of adventure and a sea career. I shall never forget that cold clear day When I left the shore of ‘Gansett Bay. The sight of my ship was one of joy As she lay tethered to a mooring buoy And on her bows her numbers clear Ever more grand as our boat drew near. I had barely stowed my gear away When the boatswain’s pipe began to play. ‘Now go to your stations, the sea detail.’ My ship and I were about to sail. And so began my maiden trip In my new home, this long gray ship. Then later, as a a gunner’s mate In charge of a five-inch-thirty-eight. How often we were flung about In our greyhound out at sea As our dripping forefoot rose and fell But nowhere could we flee. Now three decades worth of sea Has passed beneath my keel Not all those years were filled with glee But most were passed with zeal. My shipmates - now with Davy Jones And soon I’ll join that crew, And we’ll all dance on Fiddler’s Green. On watch, awaiting you.