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American Ballads and Folk Songs
You hunt the slimy submarine-It's a son-of-a-bitch of a life on a destroyer.
We've heard of muddy dug-outs, Of shell holes filled with slime, Of cootie hunts and other things, That fill a soldier's time. But believe me, bo, that's nothing, To what it's like at sea, When the barometer drops And the clinometer hops, And the wind blows dismally. |
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