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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.
Copyright ©
Joseph Ress
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