These are the men behind the guns Poem from the First Anniversary Yearbook
A crusty lot of stalwart sons
Who fight a line on pitching decks
To bring them back to th' other sex.
They live on spam disguised as ham
And rice and grits and greasy lamb.
There's Buie, Moylan, Dusty Rhoades
Who drive their men with lusty odes
"Now take a strain and heave around".
Avast ye lubbers she's aground
Now all you sweepers man yo brooms
Clear your lungs of tobacco fumes.
The first division won the toss
So number two must come across
To keep the ship in regal state
Awaiting the inspection date.
O wooden ships and iron men
You’ve been replaced by Sebastian.
On tinny ships of Fletcher class
We scourge the seas in search of bass
Or cod or trout, or mackerel
Dished up to us by E. Settell.
