Home, Boys, Home
Man born of woman was a sailor for to be, Born to degradation in every degree, Of guard mount and gun drill he never has his ease, He has so many masters that he don't know whom to please.
Home, boys, home, that's where I want to be, Home, boys, home, way
back in God's country, The ash and the oak and the weeping willow
tree, We're strong for the navy, but it's home we ought to be.
You go up to the Captain if you want to get away, You ask him for a leave for months, at a higher rate of pay, You write out your request for him, he'll sign it if he can, You can stay away and never come back, he doesn't give a damn.
You go and see the Paymaster if you want to draw some pay, He'll work it out and he'll figure it, it's marked from day to day, He'll pass you on the money with a careless sort of slam, Oh, the money don't belong to him, so he doesn't give a damn.
You go up to the doctor if you're feeling kind o' ill, The doctor looks you over, then you get the same old pill, If you die, the men salute, they even call the band, Well, the Navy's done its duty, so they don't give a damn.
You go up to the Chaplain when you know you're gonna die, He'll teach you how to beat the rap and live up in the sky, He'll launderize your record so you're clean as any lamb, The Navy goes to heaven, boys, so we don't give a damn.
- Oscar Brand
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Every Inch A Sailor
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