A Naval Officer - that's the story for me,

around the world with a crew of stout-hearted men,

we kiss our wives and we sail away on the sea,

and never know when we'll see our lovers again.

The Captain's cabin is spacious - fit for a King,

with room to store all his books and photos and junk,

while down below all the seamen don't have a thing,

except each other - they're crushed in three to a bunk.

The galley serves up the Captain's every wish,

with gourmet meals and a vintage claret or two,

the ratings' mess is a different kettle of fish,

with day old pieces of bread and Mulligan stew.

A weekly officers meet assembles the mates,

a quick discussion decides that everything's fine,

then men bring lobster and lamb, and paté on plates,

with sweet Dominican rum and bottles of wine.

The ratings get all the jobs that everyone loathes,

like Mister Sheening the bilge or sanding the decks,

then after working they wash and iron their clothes,

then hit the sack and ignore their dreams about sex.

The ship hits port and they try to paint the town red,

with girls and rum and a chance to dance a fast jig,

but fights break out and they land in trouble instead,

and nurse their headaches for fourteen days in the brig.

The Bosun does all the deals, he's everyone's chum,

procures them all of the things that they never see,

his bank account is a tidy six-figure sum,

the profit margin is high when everything's free.

So, sign me up and I'll hit the ocean and float,

I've done no good on the shore, I'll never be missed,

my future lies in the Navy - out on a boat,

before I sign there is one small thing I insist:

A second mate or a Bosun - nothing below,

no rating, crewman or stoker under the whip,

I've seen your ads and I'm here and ready to go,

a Captain doesn't need training - give me my ship!

More of my FUNNY POEMS HERE

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