The following poem was
sent via e-mail to all of the crew members of the USS Milwaukee, the fleet oiler
I served aboard when I was in the Navy. I could think of no more fitting
illustration than the one above, which is a comparison of the real life photo
used by Norman Rockwell in his iconic drawing.
The poem was written by Chief
Dunn and published on the spiritual blog The Chronicle Watch, which is located at http://www.chroniclewatch.com/ and forwarded to me by Dennis Bieak, an old shipmate from the 1970’s. It was
forwarded in caps, so I’m leaving it that way. Something’s in life don’t need
to be polished to shine brightly….
Old Sailors Poem by Larry Dunn, RMCM,
USN (Ret)
OLD SAILORS SIT AND CHEW THE FAT
ABOUT THINGS THAT USED TO BE,
OF THE THINGS THEY'VE SEEN, THE PLACES THEY'VE BEEN,
WHEN THEY VENTURED OUT TO SEA.
THEY REMEMBERED FRIENDS FROM LONG AGO,
THE TIMES THEY HAD BACK THEN.
THE MONEY THEY SPENT, THE BEER THEY DRANK,
IN THEIR DAYS AS SAILING MEN.
THEIR LIVES ARE LIVED IN DAYS GONE BY,
WITH THOUGHTS THAT FOREVER LAST.
OF BELL BOTTOM BLUES, WINGED WHITE HATS,
AND GOOD TIMES IN THEIR PAST.
THEY RECALL LONG NIGHTS WITH A MOON SO BRIGHT
FAR OUT ON A LONELY SEA.
THE THOUGHTS THEY HAD AS YOUTHFUL LADS,
WHEN THEIR LIVES WERE WILD AND FREE.
THEY KNEW SO WELL HOW THEIR HEARTS WOULD SWELL
WHEN OLD GLORY FLUTTERED PROUD AND FREE.
THE UNDERWAY PENNANT SUCH A BEAUTIFUL SIGHT
AS THEY PLOWED THROUGH AN ANGRY SEA.
THEY TALKED OF THE CHOW OL' COOKIE WOULD MAKE
AND THE SHRILL OF THE BOS UN'S PIPE.
HOW SALT SPRAY WOULD FALL LIKE SPARKS FROM HELL
WHEN A STORM STRUCK IN THE NIGHT.
THEY REMEMBER OLD SHIPMATES ALREADY GONE
WHO FOREVER HOLD A SPOT IN THEIR HEART,
WHEN SAILORS WERE BOLD, AND FRIENDSHIPS WOULD HOLD,
UNTIL DEATH RIPPED THEM APART.
THEY SPEAK OF NIGHTS IN PIG ALLEY AND GUT
ON MANY A FOREIGN SHORE,
OF THE BEER THEY'D DOWN AS GATHERING AROUND,
TELLING JOKES AND SEA STORIES GALORE.
THEIR SAILING DAYS ARE GONE AWAY,
NEVER AGAIN WILL THEY CROSS THE BROW.
THEY HAVE NO REGRETS, THEY KNOW THEY ARE BLESSED,
FOR HONORING A SACRED VOW.
THEIR NUMBERS GROW LESS WITH EACH PASSING DAY
AS THE FINAL MUSTER BEGINS,
THERE'S NOTHING TO LOSE, ALL HAVE PAID DUES,
AND THEY'LL SAIL WITH SHIPMATES AGAIN.
I'VE HEARD THEM SAY BEFORE GETTING UNDERWAY
THAT THERE'S STILL SOME SAILING TO DO,
THEY'LL SAY WITH A GRIN THAT THEIR SHIP HAS COME IN
AND THE GOOD LORD NEEDS A GOOD CREW.
