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American Ballads and Folk Songs
The boys out in the trenches
Have got a lot to say
Of the hardships and the sorrows
That come the soldier's way.
But we destroyer sailors
Would like their company
On a couple of trips in our skinny ships,
When we put out to sea.
Oh, it's roll and pitch
And creak and groan, you son of a bitch.
Oh, boy, it's a hell of a life on a destroyer.
Oh, Holy Mike, you ought to see
How it feels to roll through each degree.
The God-damned ships were never meant for sea.
You carry guns, torpedoes,
And ash-cans in a bunch,
But the only time you're sure to fire
Is when you shoot your lunch.
Your food it is the navy bean,