Digital Tradition Mirror

Home, Boys, Home (Navy Version)

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Home, Boys, Home (Navy Version)

Man, born of woman, was a sailor for to be
He's born to degradation in every degree
Of guard mounts and gun drills, he never has his ease
He has so many masters that he don't know whom to please

   Home, boys, home, it's home we ought to be
   Home, boys, home, in God's country
   The oak and the ash and the weeping willow tree
   Oh we're strong for the Navy, but it's home we ought to be

Go to the captain if you want to get away
Off on leave for a month or a day
Write out your request, he'll sign it if he can
You can go away and not come back, he doesn't give a damn

Go to the Executive if you want to get a boat
To visit some friends on some other ship afloat
He gives you the wherry, you can pull it like a man
You can take a boat and drown yourself, he doesn't give a damn

Go to the Chief if you want to get some speed
He shuts down the shower bath and turns it into feed
You ring up three turns faster, and the ship ahead you ram
The Chief he gave you twenty and he doesn't give a damn

Go to the First Lieutenant if you want a piece of wood
A keg of nails or steamer, and be it understood
Each one you see has a different little plan
It's down on the card index and he doesn't give a damn

Go to the Navigator if you want to get a chart
He'll give it to you from the bottom of his heart
And if the ship you run aground or into docks you ram
The chart's "corrected up to date," he doesn't give a damn

The Navigator takes a sight and works a little sum
"We're fifty miles away," says he, "My sextant's on the bum"
The Engineer says, "Never fear, although we're salted up
We'll add another turn or two and make the fifty up"

Go to the Paymaster if you want to draw some pay
He sits down and figures it out to a day
He hands you the money with a careless sort of slam
The money doesn't belong to him, he doesn't give a damn

Go to the Bos'n if you want to get some rope
Some whiteline, some small stuff, some spun yarn, or soap
He measures it exactly and weighs it in his hand
You can take the rope and hang yourself, he doesn't give a damn

Go to the Captain of Marines if you want a sentry
To station on the quarter-deck or officer's country
He drinks up all your booze, with the change his pockets cram
The Captain takes a drink himself and doesn't give a damn

Go to the Gunner if you want to get a gun
And he'll give it to you if he's only got one
You sign a little slip just as meek as a lamb
And you can go and shoot yourself, he doesn't give a damn

You go to the Doctor, you feel mighty ill
The Doctor looks you over, he gives you a pill
Then if you die, they break out the band
The Doctor's done his duty and he doesn't give a damn

The Commissary Officer and Signal Officer too
The ship's cook, the jack o' the dust and the whole damn crew
Will be right behind the skipper even though we head for Hell
They know that if he's ordered there, he'll answer, "Very well"

Go to the Chaplain if you feel you're going to die
He'll teach you how to beat the game and live up in the sky
He'll whitewash your record just as clear as any lamb
We'll all go to Heaven, so we don't give a damn.

from The Book of Navy Songs, collected by the Trident Society,
1943.
DT #319
Laws K43
see also AMBLETN
SOF

Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!