When you're pickin’ your men for a fight, When choosin’ the corps that'll serve, It's only quite proper an’ right To fix upon muscle an’ nerve,
An’ so, to your heavy Dragoons — Your Granny-dear Guards an’ their band — To your Sappers with bridgin’ pontoons, You can buckle the Lower Deck Hand!
( The Lower Deck Hand Does n't want any band; He's grit, an he's sand Is the Lower Deck Hand. )
His march is a go-as-you-please; He most keeps step with hisself! For his boots ai n't conducive to ease, Bein’ mostly kept packed on a shelf!
Tho’ he is n't so span or so spic — Tho’ his marchin’ ai n't what you'd call grand — He gets to the front just as quick Does the elegant Lower Deck Hand!
( The Lower Deck Hand Was n't reared in the Strand; But he's good to command, Is the Lower Deck Hand. )
You may swear by the jolly marines, ‘ Per marey, per tarey’ they fight — Not speakin’ for them in their‘ teens — I do n't mind admittin’ your right.
But all that the Joey has got, As I'd have all the world understand, He's learnt — well, he's learnt quite a lot From his tooter — the Lower Deck Hand!
( The Lower Deck Hand Is a mine that's unpanned; An’ he's yours to command, Is the Lower Deck Hand. )
He does n't shape well at Reviews, I've known him to spit in the ranks; But we've never been asked to excuse A fault, when he's guarding the flanks.
An’ when there's a break in the square Or a place where the Line cannot stand, I'll tell you the chap to put there — ‘ Jack Mullow’ — the Lower Deck Hand.
( The Lower Deck Hand Will die as he‘ ll stand; He's tempered an land, Is the Lower Deck Hand. )
When you're hemmed in a tight little hole, By a greatly outnumbering foe, It's a matter of stokin’ an’ coal How far we're away from the foe.
When the Infantry's needin’ some aid, When the‘ tillery gets under-man'd,— Make way for the Naval Brigade!— His Highness the Lower Deck Hand!
( The Lower Deck Hand With his guns he can land, An he'll kick up some sand, Will the Lower Deck Hand. )
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