The Fleet Air Arm Association

I was walking through the Dockyard in a panic,
When I met a matelot old and grey.
Upon his back he had his kitbag and his hammock,
And this is what I heard him say.

I wonder, yes I wonder,
Has the Jossman made a blunder,
When he made this draft chit out for me,
Well I’ve been a barrack stanchion,
The pride of Jago’s mansion.
But I do not want to go to sea.

Oh I like my tiddy Oggie ,
And I like my figgy duff,
And I always say good morning to the chief.
Good Morning Chief!

Oh, I wonder, yes I wonder,
Has the Jossman made a blunder,
When he made this draft chit out for me.

Anon

 

Fleet Air Arm Version (of above):

I was strolling through the gates at Lee-On-Solent.
When I met a Wafu old and grey.
He was seated by his toolbox on the pavement
And this is what I heard him say :

"Oh I wonder, yes I wonder, If the Andrew made a blunder
When they made this Draft Chit out for me!
'Cos I've served on all the Carriers,
Serviced Wessex 5's and Harriers
But now there is no need for me.
Oh I've been up North to Lossie and down south to Cul 'D'
And I always said good morning to the Chief -
"Good Morning Chief!"
Oh I wonder, yes I wonder, if the Andrew made a blunder
When they made this Draft Chit out for me!"

Credit Claimed

by Ransford T Rogers L/F969339

5th Feb 1957 - 5th Feb 1979

 

Just A Common Sailor

He was getting old and paunchy, and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion, telling stories of the past.

Of a war that we had fought in and the deeds that he had done,
Of his exploits with his buddies, they were heroes, every one.

And tho' sometimes, to his neighbours, his tales became a joke
His Legion buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer for old Bert has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer, for a sailor died today.

He was just a common sailor and his ranks were growing thin,
But his presence should remind us we may need his like again.

For when countries are in conflict, then we find the sailor's part
Is to clean up all the troubles that the 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 days.

Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper that would say,
Our country is in mourning, for a sailor died today.

Anon

 

Have you news of my boy Jack?
Not this tide.
When d'you think that he'll come back?
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
Has any one else had word of him?
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind ---
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide.

Rudyard Kipling (1915)

 

In ocean wastes no poppies blow,
No crosses stand in ordered row,
There young hearts sleep… beneath the wave…
The spirited, the good, the brave,
But stars a constant vigil keep,
For them who lie beneath the deep.
‘Tis true you cannot kneel in prayer
On certain spot and think. “He’s there.”
But you can to the ocean go…
See whitecaps marching row on row;
Know one for him will always ride…
In and out… with every tide.
And when your span of life is passed,
He’ll meet you at the “Captain’s Mast.”
And they who mourn on distant shore
For sailors who’ll come home no more,
Can dry their tears and pray for these
Who rest beneath the heaving seas…
For stars that shine and winds that blow
And whitecaps marching row on row.
And they can never lonely be
For when they lived… they chose the sea.

Anon

 

Some time ago I was a Sailor.
I sailed the Ocean blue.
I knew the bars in Singapore...
The coastline of Peru.

I knew well the sting of salt spray,
The taste of Spanish wine,
The beauty of the furthest lands
Yes, all these things were mine.

But I wear a different hat now,
No tie and jacket too.
My sailing days were long ago...
with that life I am through.

But somewhere deep inside of me...
The sailor lives there still.
He longs to go to sea again,
But knows he never will.

My love, my life, is here at home,
and I will leave here never.
Though mind and body stay ashore...
My heart's at sea forever.

Anon

 

Heart of Oak
Words: David Garrick 1759
Music: Dr William Boyce (1716 – 1769)
Heart of Oak is the official march of the Royal Navy. David Garrick was a famous actor of the day, and is credited with coining the phrase ‘break a leg’.
Heart of Oak

Come, cheer up, my lads, ’tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to this wonderful year;
To honour we call you, as freemen not slaves,
For who are as free as the sons of the waves?

CHORUS: Hearts of oak are our ships,
Jolly tars are our men, we always are ready;
Steady, boys, steady!
We’ll fight and we’ll conquer again and again.

We ne’er see our foes but we wish them to stay,
They never see us but they wish us away;
If they run, why we follow, and run them ashore,
And if they won’t fight us, we cannot do more.

CHORUS: Hearts of oak are our ships,
Jolly tars are our men, we always are ready;
Steady, boys, steady!
We’ll fight and we’ll conquer again and again.

They swear they’ll invade us, these terrible foes,
They frighten our women, our children and beaus,
But should their flat bottoms in darkness get o’er,
Still Britons they’ll find to receive them on shore.

CHORUS: Hearts of oak are our ships,
Jolly tars are our men, we always are ready;
Steady, boys, steady!
We’ll fight and we’ll conquer again and again.

We’ll still make them fear and we’ll still make them flee,
And drub them ashore as we’ve drubbed them at sea,
Then cheer up, my lads, with our hearts let us sing,
Our soldiers, our sailors, our airmen, our Queen.

CHORUS: Hearts of oak are our ships,
Jolly tars are our men, we always are ready;
Steady, boys, steady!
We’ll fight and we’ll conquer again and again.