The Captain
The Captain stormed into the wardroom,
And he threatened to lower the boom:
"I don't mind the guests in the movies,
But who laid that broad in my room?"
The officers eat in the wardroom,
The Captain won't eat with the mob,
Oh, it's not that he eats any better,
He don't want us to know he's a slob.
Oh, here's to the ladies of Newport,
And here's to the docks that they roam,
And here's to their dirty faced children,
God bless'em, they may be our own.
And here's to the maidens of Brooklyn
Who stand at the navy yard rail,
Now, they may not be Hollywood starlets,
But they gave us our first piece of tail.
Oh, honor the men of the Leyte
For bravery outside the line,
Creating historical precedent,
They buggered a small porcupine.
And here's to the gallant Missouri
Whose complement loves to have fun,
They bugger the stacks and the portholes
And even a sixteen-inch gun.
Oh, the crewmen all sleep in their hammocks,
The Captain, he sleeps in his bed,
It's not that he sleeps any better,
But he's twenty feet nearer the head.
