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Guantanamo Bay
At Guantanamo Bay we're confined to our quarters, We're scratching and sweating, we're waiting for orders, We're watching the harbor, we're counting the wrecks, And we're wondering which we'll be shipping on nex'.
At Guantanamo Bay, call her Gitmo for short, Not much of a base, much less of a port, One look at the docks, and you know that you're seein' The goddamnedest hole in the whole Caribbean.
So, hurrah for old Gitmo on Cuba's fair shore, The home of the
cockroach, the flea and the whore, We'll sing of her praises and pray
for the day We'll get the hello out of Guantanamo Bay.
Here you pay twenty cents for a bottle of beer, They call it Hatuey, and it tastes mighty queer, There's the Indian Chief on the label to show, The Indian sign makes you go, go, go, go.
And the U.S.S. Alaska comes steaming in view To scrape off her bottom and pick up a crew, But nary a seaman was fit for the sea, They'd all been on leave, and they all had VD.
Guantanamo City has hundreds of doors, And everyone's jammed with hundreds of whores, They hang from the windows with stark naked chests And knock out your brains with their low-hanging breasts.
Well, the boys in my outfit are workin' a plan, We're savin' each nickel and dollar we can, And we'll buy T.N.T. and one sunshiny day We'll blow up this goddamned Guantanamo Bay.
- Oscar Brand
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Every Inch A Sailor
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