Here's a lively tale of a spree ashore told in the old style by Burt Branklin Jenness, a medical officer who served in the U. S. Navy during World War 1. No policemen were harmed in my adaption of this poem for singing. I added the chorus from a variant of the old whaling song "It Was Advertised in Boston" as set out in Frederick Pease Harlow's CHANTEYING ABOARD AMERICAN SHIPS, pp. 211-212. I want to thank Marc Bernier for helping to track down the tune (copy and paste into WORD/TIMES/12 to line up the chords):

From SEA LANES, edited by Burt Franklin Jenness, published by The Cornhill Publishing Co., Boston, US, © 1921, pp. 79-80A
Adapted by Charlie Ipcar, 1/21/08
Tune: TRAD "It's Advertised in Boston" (Harlow variant)
Key: C

Ballad of the Old Navy


C----------------------F--------C
The sea's a place for sail-or-men
--------------------G
In fair or stormy weather;
C-----------------------F-------C
'Round the world an' back a-gain –
------------------G-----G7-C
They's all good mates to-ge-ther.

Chorus:

C------------------F-----C
So cheer up, me lively lads,
---------------------G
In spite of stormy weather;
C---------------F------C
Cheer up, me lively lads,
---------------G-----G7-C
We'll all get drunk to-ge-ther!


We went ashore on pay day night,
Bill Dykes the mate, and me;
We cruised about till we got tight;
'Twas all one glor-i-ous spree! (CHO)
We veered an' hauled an' tacked an' beat,

An' shifted course some more,
Till we fetched up on Bleecher Street,
An' steered for Jersy shore. (CHO)

An' we wuz ridin' even keel,
Consid'rin' where we'd been,
Till a pair of cops put up a deal
An' tried to run us in. (CHO)

An' Bill, he sez: "'Turn To' has gone,
I think I heard 'er blow,"
An' he winked at me, an' I wuz on,
An' then he sez: "Let's go!" (CHO)

So Bill, he took th' bigger one,
An' 'course I took th' other,
An' so help me, when th' job wuz done
Y' couldn't tell one from t'other. (CHO)

Th' port side light o' one wuz green,
With th' starb'ard showin' red,
T'other wuz bleedin' in b'tween,
An' I thought that he wuz dead. (CHO)

For I downed him cold in th' mornin' watch.
With his own b'layin' pin;
An' th' top of his head wuz an awful splotch
An' his jaw wuz busted in. (CHO)

Then Bill, he sez: "All's well below,"
An' he cast his weather eye
Around the street, an' sez: "Let's'go,
An' leave th' lubbers die." (CHO)

Two sailors rollin' down the dock,
A-makin' heavy weather,
A-hoisted in with tackle an' block,
Flung in the brig together! (CHO)

Here's the original poem:

A Ballad Of The Old Navy

The sea's a place for sailormen in fair or stormy weather;
'Round the world and back again they're all good mates together.

We went ashore on pay day night, Bill Dykes, the mate, and me;
We cruised about till we got tight an' then went on a spree.
We veered an' hauled an' tacked an' beat, an' shifted course some more,
Till we fetched up on Bleecher Street, an' steered for Jersy shore —
An' we wuz ridin' even keel, consid'rin where we'd been,
Till a pair of cops put up a deal an' tried t' run us in.
An' Bill, he sez: "'Turn to' has gone, I think I heard 'er blow,"
An' he winked at me, an' I wuz on, an' then he sez: "Les' go!"

So Bill, he took th' biggest one, an' 'course I took th' other,
An' s' help me, when th' job wuz done y' couldn't tell one from t'other.
Th' port side light o' one wuz green, an' th' starb'ard showin' red,
An' t'other wuz bleedin' in b'tween, an' I thought he wuz dead,
Fer I downed him cold in th' mornin' watch with his wood b'layin' pin;
An' th' top uv his head wuz an awful splotch an' his jaw wuz busted in.
'N then Bill, he sez: "Tis well b'low," an' he cast his weather eye
Aroun' the street, an' he sez: "Les' go, an' leave the' lubbers die."

Two sailors rolling down the dock, and making heavy weather,
A-hoisted in with tackle and block, and into the brig together.

Notes:

From SEA LANES, edited by Burt Franklin Jenness, published by The Cornhill Publishing Co., Boston, US, © 1921, pp. 79-80.

This poem is a vivid description of a glorious spree in sailortown, replete with nautical jargon. There's also some nice internal rhyming in this poem.

"Turn to" is the traditional call for changing watch aboard ship.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble