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.

O Sergeants! My Sergeants rise up and hear the bells! Rise up--for you the blame is flung--for you will catch my hell; For you the late night calls and pay the law to bail For you they all, the requesting mast, their crying faces wail; Here Captain! dear father! They’ll beg beneath my head; It is no dream you’ll swab the deck, And scrub the brick bulkhead.

This Captain does not answer, his lips are tight and still; This Father does not wish you harm, he garners no ill will; If the ship stay anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage good clean fun; From fearful trip, the victor ship, more libo will be won; Exult, E-4s, ring forty-eight bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the line, Your Captain spies, And waits with breathless dread