The Destroyer Song



The boys out in the trenches

Have got a lot to say

Of the hardships and the sorrows

That eome the soldier's way.

But we destroyer sailors

Would like their company

On a couple of trips in our skinny ships,

When we put out to sea



Chorus:

Oh, it's roll and toss

And pound and pitch

And creak and groan, you son of a bitch.

Oh, boy, it's a hell of a life on a destroyer.

Oh, Holy Mike, you ought to see

How it feels to roll through each degree.

The God-damned ships were never meant for sea

You carry guns, torpedoes, and ash-cans in a bunch,

But the only time you're sure to fire Is when you shoot your lunch.

Your food it is tbe navy bean,

You hunt the slimy submarine.

It's a son-of-a-bitch of a life on a destroyer.



We've heard of muddy dug-outs,

Of shell holes filled with slime,

Of cootie hunts and other things,

That fill a soldier's time.

But believe me, bo, that's nothing,

To what it's like at sea,

When the barometer drops

And the clinometer hops,

And the wind blows dismally.



@sailor @war

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