O Corporals! Lance Corporals your fearful week is done; The ship has weather'd every rack, the ale you sought is won; The port is near, the smoke and beer, but soldier loses bearing, While follow eyes on open thighs, the outcome grim and daring: But O E-1s, E-2s, E-3s! O the promise of early bed Where on the deck my troop there lies, Fallen drunk instead.