Poem - What is a Sailor?

Hello guys,

Just joined my new draft and I'm looking to put a poem up in a spare slot on the notice board for the younger generation....
I remember seeing it on here ages ago and have spent ages looking. It's a bit of a mickey take, goes along the lines of-
He'll love your sister and your mother, and your Dad will be proud..

Anyone help???????
A Matelot is not born, he is made out of leftovers! God built the world and the animals and then recycled the gash to create this dastardly weapon.

He took the leftover roar of the lion, the howl of the hyena, the clumsiness of the ox, the stubborness of the mule, the slyness of the fox, the wildness of the bull and the pride of a peacock - then added the filthy evil mind of the devil to satisfy his wierd sense of humour.

A Matelot evolved into a crude combination of John Dillinger, Errol Flynn, Beau Brummel and Valentino - a swashbuckling - beer-swilling - lovemaking - LIAR!

A Matelot likes girls, rum, beer, fights, uckers, runs ashore, pubs, jokes, long leave, his mates and his ticket. He hates officers, rounds, divisions, saluting middies, naval police, painting the side, jaunties, navy scran, his turn in the barrel and signing on!

A Matelot comes in four colours; white, off white, dirty and filthy - all looking alike under a tan and a uniform.

He is brave drinking beer, abusive playing crib, brutal defending his pride and passionate making love.

He can start a brawl, create a disaster, offend the law, desert his ship, make you lose your money, your temper and your mind!

He can take your sister, your mother, your aunt, and when he is caught get his captain to vouch for his integrity.

A matelot is loved by all mothers, sisters, aunts and nieces; hated by all fathers, brothers, uncles and nephews.


There are load of them but I like this one (too long to put up here so I linked)
I love this paragraph:

The phrase which a Matelot never uses is `I don't know'. This in itself leads him into strange places. He is a born navigator and he takes his bearings from naval tailors and public-houses. The phrase `out of bounds' intrigues him greatly, no matter what obstacles authority places in his path - such places will draw him as a magnet to find out why they are out of bounds. He lives for the `first boat' ashore and then wonders who is making a fortune out of suppers he does not eat. He is fully convinced that he and his kind are being perpetually `seen off'. But the fact is that the business expert who can put one over on jack has yet to be born.


War Hero
Book Reviewer
Poem? I had this from a bod who had been a Stoker PO in the Fiji when she was torpedoed:

A Matelot is a comical bird,
He flits from pub to pub;
B'stard is his favourite word,
And A'seh'le is his grub.
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