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Let There Be No Moaning at the Bar
By:
Larry Dunn,
RMCM(SS)(NAC), USN (Ret.)
June 4, 2001
Old sailors sit
And
chew the fat
About
things that used to be,
Of the
things they've seen'
The
places they've been,
When
they ventured out to sea.
They
remembered friends
From
long ago,
The
times they had back then,
The
money they spent,
The
beer they drank,
In
their days as sailing men.
Their
lives are lived
In the
days gone by
With
the thoughts that forever last.
Of the
bell bottom blues,
Round
white hats,
And
good times in their past.
They
recall long nights
With
the moon so bright
Far out
into the lonely sea.
The
thoughts they had
As
youthful lads,
When
their lives were wild and free.
They
know so well
How
their hearts would swell
When
the flag fluttered proud and free.
The
underway pennant
Such a
beautiful sight
As they
plowed through an angry sea.
They
talked of the scan
Ol'
cookie would make
And the
shrill of the bos'n pipe.
How
salt spray would fall
Like
sparks from hell
When a
storm struck in the night.
They
remember old shipmates
Already
gone
Who
forever hold a spot in their heart,
When
sailors were bold,
And
friendships would hold,
Until
death ripped them apart.
They
speak of nights
Spent
in bawdy houses
On many
foreign shore,
Of the
beer they'd down
As
gathering around,
Telling
jokes with a busty whore.
Their
sailing days
Are
gone away,
Never
again will they cross the brow.
They
have no regrets,
They
know they are blessed,
For
honoring the sacred vow.
Their
numbers grow less
With
each passing day
As the
final muster begins,
There's
nothing to lose,
All
have paid their dues,
And
they'll sail with shipmates again.
I've
heard them say
Before
getting underway
That
there's still some sailing to do,
They'll say with a grin that their ship has come in,
And the
Good Lord is commanding the crew.
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