Let There Be No Moaning at the
Bar
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,
Winged 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 old glory fluttered
proud and free.
The underway pennant
Such a beautiful sight
As they plowed through
an angry sea.
They talked of the chow
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 Lord is
commanding the crew.
Anonymous