Many a schooner was wrecked last night,
And the waves ran mountain high.
Personally, I was soused to the gills,
But today I'm awfully dry.
It was a terrible night at sea, waiter,
And many are missing, I think,
But as near as I can remember
I never missed a drink.
The one in blue got my purse, waiter,
Her side-kick got my clock,
I don't want to know what time it is,
Please lead me down to the dock.
Lead me down to the dock, waiter,
For a watery grave I pine,
The place for a man that is pickled
Is over my head in brine.
Tell them in Olongapo,
I died as a hero should,
Up to the neck, in cold, cold suds
Guaranteed drawn from the wood.
I'd like to leave you a gift, waiter,
Just to remember me by
And to show you that I'm not tight,
You can have my piece of pie.
And after I sink in the water, waiter,
You'll do me a favor, I hope.
Tell them, if I blow up bubbles
It wasn't from eating soap.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE POSTER
They told me that the Army was a joy for evermore;
They told me of the pleasures I'd have in it by the score;
They told me of its comforts and the jolly life I'd lead,
But by thunder they have fooled me and I'm sorrowful indeed--
I ever joined the Army.
They told me of the polished boots and the buttons bright I'd wear,
And of the splendid things I'd find upon the bill-of-fare;
But never a word they told me in the fine recruiting shop,
Of hoeing weeds upon the roads, or hauling out the slops--
When I joined the Army.
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