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Simple Sailor

babystew

Lantern Swinger
He was getting old and paunchy, and his hair was falling fast
and he sat around the legion, telling stories of his past

Of a patrol that he once served on, and the deeds that he had done
in his exploits with his oppo's they were heroes everyone

And tho' sometimes to his neighbours, his tales became a joke
all his buddies listened quitely, for they knew of where he spoke

But we'll hear his tales no longer, for ol' jack has passed away,
and the worlds a little poorer, for a sailor died today

He won't be mourned by many, just his children and his wife
for he lived an ordinary, very quite sort of life

He held a job and raised a family, going quietly on his way
and the world won't note his passing, tho' a sailor died today

when politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state
while thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great

Papers tell of their life stories, from the time that they were young
but the passing of a sailor, goes unnoticed and unsung

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
some jerk who breaks his promise and con's his fellow man

Or the ordinary sailor, who in times of war and strife
goes off to serve his country and offers up his life

The politicians stipend and the style in which he lives
are often disproportinate to the service that he gives

While the ordinary sailor who offered up his all
is paid off with a medal and a pension that is small

It's so easy to forget them for it is so many times
that our jacks and johns and jimmys went to battle but we know

It's not the politicians with their compromise and ploys
who won for us our freedom that our country now enjoys

Should you find yourself in danger with your enemies at hand
would you really want some copout with his ever waffling stand

Or would you want a sailor his home his country his kin
just a common sailor who would fight until the end

He was just a ordinary sailor and his ranks are growing thin
but his presence should remind us we may need his like again

For when countries are in conflict we find the sailors part
is to clean up all the troubles that politicians start

If we cannot do him honour while he's here to hear the praise
then at least let's give him homage at the ending of his day's

Perhaps just a simple headline in the paper that might say


" OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING: A SAILOR DIED TODAY"
 

dt018a9667

War Hero
Where did you find that little gem? Nearly brought tears to the eyes. Very topical given all that has gone on recently re blair and company, football (heroes my arse!).

Where did you find that little gem? Nearly brought tears to the eyes. Very topical given all that has gone on recently re blair and company, football (heroes my arse!).
 

Skunkmiester

Lantern Swinger
That is a bloody excellent piece of poetry. I'm sure it means as much to matloets as 'The Blinking Marine' does to Bootnecks.

Who wrote it?
 

pots359v

Lantern Swinger
Skunkmiester said:
That is a bloody excellent piece of poetry. I'm sure it means as much to matloets as 'The Blinking Marine' does to Bootnecks.

Who wrote it?

does anybody have the words to the blinking marine?
 
B

Blapto

Guest
THE BLINKIN' MARINE

He ain't exactly a Tommy, he ain't exactly a Tar,
He ain't too cocky or nothing, but the best blokes never are.
They christened him leatherneck, jolly and a ruddy good bullock he's been,
For if there's war,
Afloat or ashore,
They call him a blinkin' Marine.

When poor little Belgium was wobbly and o'er run by a torrent of Huns,
Antwerp lay naked and listened wide-eyed to the bombs and the guns.
It was just a chance in a million for Willie he wasn't so green
But we weren't far wrong
When we sent him along,
That leather-necked bloke, the Marine

He's frozen in ice of the Arctic; he's sweated in African heat,
He's smiled at the welcome of Ypres,
He's popped off the guns with the fleet.
But where trouble is brewing or something wants doing,
They send for the blinkin' Marine.

They say that all dumps have a dud shell, well -- I once saw a Hun that was kind,
I once saw a Yank that had no swank and a skipper who had never been minded'
But if you saw the mole at Zeebrugge,
when machine guns were sweeping it clean.
Then you'll all agree there's no such thing, in this world, as a dud Marine.

When Earth's little canter is over
And the sun burns the colour of lead,
And the last bugle call is sounding to summon the quick and the dead,
There may be a panic by people, who don't know what discipline means,
But I'll wager my pay that the first to obey,
Will be -- the last of the blinkin' Marines.

Written by Rudyard Kipling - 1917-1918
 

Skunkmiester

Lantern Swinger
THE BLINKIN' MARINE

He ain't exactly a Tommy, he ain't exactly a Tar,
He ain't too cocky or nothing, but the best blokes never are.
They christened him leatherneck, jolly and a ruddy good bullock he's been,
For if there's war,
Afloat or ashore,
They call him a blinkin' Marine.

When poor little Belgium was wobbly and o'er run by a torrent of Huns,
Antwerp lay naked and listened wide-eyed to the bombs and the guns.
It was just a chance in a million for Willie he wasn't so green
But we weren't far wrong
When we sent him along,
That leather-necked bloke, the Marine

He's frozen in ice of the Arctic; he's sweated in African heat,
He's smiled at the welcome of Ypres,
He's popped off the guns with the fleet.
But where trouble is brewing or something wants doing,
They send for the blinkin' Marine.

They say that all dumps have a dud shell, well -- I once saw a Hun that was kind,
I once saw a Yank that had no swank and a skipper who had never been mined'
But if you saw the mole at Zeebrugge,
when machine guns were sweeping it clean.
Then you'll all agree there's no such thing, in this world, as a dud Marine.

When Earth's little canter is over
And the sun burns the colour of lead,
And the last bugle call is sounding to summon the quick and the dead,
There may be a panic by people, who don't know what discipline means,
But I'll wager my pay that the first to obey,
Will be -- the last of the blinkin' Marines.
 
Saw the top one first some years ago in the Handlers Herald,perhaps some chockhead knows who wrote it.Good innit?
 

Geoff_Wessex

Lantern Swinger
As this is turning into Poets' Corner, how do you like this one? Pass the bucket when you've done with it....

I Am the American Sailor
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Hear my voice, America!
Though I speak through the mist of 200 years,
My shout for freedom will echo through liberty's halls for many
centuries to come. Hear me speak, for my words are of truth and justice, and
the rights of man.
For those ideals I have spilled my blood upon the world's
troubled waters. Listen well, for my time is eternal -yours is but a moment.

I am the spirit of heroes past and future.
I am the American Sailor. I was born upon the icy shores at Plymouth,
rocked upon the waves of the Atlantic, and nursed in the wilderness of
Virginia. I cut my teeth on New England codfish, and I was clothed in
southern cotton. I built muscle at the halyards of New Bedford whalers, and
I gained my sea legs high atop mizzen of yankee clipper ships.

Yes, I am the American Sailor, one of the greatest seamen the world
has ever known.
The sea is my home and my words are tempered by the
sound of paddle wheels on the Mississippi
and the song of whales off Greenland's barren shore.
My eyes have grown dim from the glare of
sunshine on blue water, and my heart is full of star-strewn nights
under the Southern Cross.
My hands are raw from winter storms while
sailing down round the Horn, and they are blistered from the heat of
cannon broadside while defending our nation.

I am the American Sailor,
and I have seen the sunset of a thousand distant, lonely lands.
I am the American Sailor. It was I who stood tall beside John Paul
Jones as he shouted, "I have not yet begun to fight!"

I fought upon
the Lake Erie with Perry, and I rode with
Stephen Decatur into Tripoli harbor to burn Philadelphia.
I met Guerriere aboard Constitution, and I was
lashed to the mast with Admiral Farragut at Mobile Bay.

I have heard the clang of Confederate shot against the sides of Monitor.
I have suffered the cold with Peary at the North Pole and I responded when
Dewy said, "You may fire when ready Gridley," at Manila Bay.
It was I who transported supplies through submarine infested waters when our soldier's
were called "over there." I was there as Admiral Byrd crossed the South
Pole. It was I who went down with the Arizona at Pearl Harbor,
who supported our troops at Inchon,
and patrolled dark deadly waters of the Mekong Delta.

I am the American Sailor and I wear many faces.
I am a pilot soaring across God's blue canopy and
I am a Seabee atop a dusty bulldozer in the South Pacific.
I am a corpsman nursing the wounded in the jungle,
and I am a torpedoman in the Nautilus deep beneath the North Pole.
I am hard and I am strong.

But it was my eyes that filled with tears when my brother
went down with the Thresher, and it was my heart that rejoiced when
Commander Shepherd rocketed into orbit above the earth.
It was I who languished in a Viet Cong prison camp,
and it was I who walked upon the moon.
It was I who saved the Stark and the Samuel B. Roberts in the mine
infested waters of the Persian Gulf.
It was I who pulled my brothers from
the smoke filled compartments of the Bonefish and
wept when my shipmates died on the Iowa and White Plains.

When called again, I was there, on the
tip of the spear for Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm.

I am the American Sailor.
I am woman, I am man,
I am white and black, yellow, red and brown.
I am Jew, Muslim, Christian, and Buddhist.
I am Irish, Filipino, African, French, Chinese, and Indian.

And my standard is the outstretched hand of Liberty.
Today, I serve around the world; on land, in air, on and under the sea.
I serve
proudly, at peace once again,
but with the fervent prayer that I need
not be called again.

Tell your children of me. Tell them of my
sacrifice, and how my spirit soars above their country.
I have spread the mantle of my nation over the ocean,
and I will guard her forever.
I am
her heritage and yours.

I am the American Sailor.
 

Geoff_Wessex

Lantern Swinger
Geoff_Wessex said:
I am the American Sailor.
I am woman, I am man,
I am white and black, yellow, red and brown.
I am Jew, Muslim, Christian, and Buddhist.
I am Irish, Filipino, African, French, Chinese, and Indian.

I am the American Sailor.

Could have added "English, Welsh, Scot, German, Russian, Pole, Spaniard, Italian, Scandinavian, Vietnamese, Belgian, Dutch etc etc etc"
 

Skunkmiester

Lantern Swinger
Pipe down American Sailor you Sprog, you havn't been in long enough for a NAAFI run.

Joking, it's nice although very American.
 
The British poem is just.........a little understated, the American a bit more boastfull. But if you are the junior Sprog you have to shout to get mothers attention.
 
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