I don’t suppose
You guys have thought
About “seagoing Marines.”
Like me you tramped
The sandy beach,
Land was always
In our reach,
So solid
And so firm.
But when you stand
On a movin’ deck
That ain’t too solid,
You can expect
To be a little
Ill at ease.
That stuff that lies
Below the keel
Has a flimsy
Kind of feel
And you can’t even
Drink the stuff.
And when it’s dark
And you’re at sea,
Ain’t a damn thing
You can see
Cause when it’s dark
It’s dark.
Marines aboard those
Vessels have a
Duty that is varied,
They stand a watch
On open deck
In weather
That is hairy.
And when it comes to
Quarters
They are there
Their part to play,
From manning guns
In action
To keeping fires
At bay.
When kamikaze
Strike the vessel
They are there to
Fix its wounds,
To keep the ship
Afloating
Or else it is
Doomed.
Now, I don’t know
About you guys
But I’m not much
A sailor.
I rather like the feel
Of ground
That I can run on
All around
And it is there
Just when I need it.
You can’t dig no holes
In water that is wet,
You can’t outswim
No bullet,
On that
You can bet.
So maybe they
Better chow
And sleep in dry
Conditions,
But please
Don’t send me
Out to sea
Without my permission.
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