Come gather around me lads and I’ll tell you a thing or two about the way we ran the Navy in nineteen-fifty two. When wooden ships and iron men were barely out of sight.

I’m going to give you some facts just to set the record right.

We wore old bell bottoms, with a flat hat on our head, And we always hit the sack at night. We never went to bed. Our uniforms were worn ashore and we were mighty proud.

Never thought of wearing civvies, in fact they were never allowed.

We had scullery maids and succotash and good old SOS. And when you felt like topping off—you headed to the mess. Oh we had our belly robbers—but there weren’t too many gripes. For the deck apes were never hungry and there were no starving snipes.

Now you never hear of Dave Jones, Shellbacks or Polliwogs, and you never spliced the main brace to receive your daily grog. Now you never have to dog a watch or stand the main event. You even tie your lines today—back in my time they were bent.

We were all two-fisted drinkers and no one thought you sinned if  you staggered back aboard your ship three sheets to the wind. And with just a couple of hours of sleep, you regained your usual luster. Bright eyed and bushy-tailed, you still made morning muster.

Rock and shoals have long since gone, and now it’s the UCMJ. The the old man handled everything if you should go astray. Now they steer the ships with dials, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some day they sailed the damned things from the beach computerized.

So when my earthly hitch is over, and the good Lord picks the best. I’ll walk right up to Him and say, "Sir, I have but one request—let me sail the seas of heaven in a coat of Navy Blue like I did so long ago on earth—way back in nineteen-fifty two."