In the days of Admiral Nelson
Or it might have been before.
The Navy got its heritage
in customs and its law.
Now some of these were good
things
And some of these were not
But they’ll never find how to replace
That little daily Tot.
It isn’t served haphazard
Like tea or even beer
ut with pencil book and water
And other useless gear.
Jack dusty and his winger
Perform the sacred rite
They brew a swill called “Two and One”
On which we have to fight.
With bottle jug and Fanny
We muster at the shrine
“Get into line you Sailors!
That first Fanny’s mine”
Then with murmured
incantations
Such as “seven one and two”
The high priest and his acolyte
Dispense the Holy Brew.
When the seas are breaking
over
And you feel you’ve had enough
When the chef has dropped his tatties
And his ‘oppos’ burnt the duff
When your locker’s full of
hogwash
And your hammocks gone to rot
There’s nothing quite can touch it;
YOUR DAILY LITTLE TOT.
|
In the Navy of the 70’s
the beginning of the rot
the day they killed the Andrew
was the day they stopped the Tot
Oh! They go to east of Suez
Or west to Panama;
When your belly’s full of limers,
You can’t go very far.
The legend of the ‘Rum Tub’
Is still there to be seen.
But the motto looks quite silly
On the side of the gopher machine
You’ll hear old sailors
saying
“It’ll never be the same”
And when they talk of bubbly
They don’t mean French champagne
Did Jack flinch at Trafalgar
As he faced shot and shell?
With a tot inside his belly
Our jack would sail through Hell
At ten to twelve each
forenoon
Since the Andrew first began
Jack drinks the blood of Nelson
From Jutland to Japan
Their Lordships sip their
Sherry
And cry “more efficiency”
But what works on paper
Don’t always work at sea
Now Jack’s a humble sailor
Who doesn’t ask a lot;
After Jutland and Trafalgar
Who dares to stop his Tot?
He’s always done his duty
To Country and the Throne
All he asks is fairness
AND TO LEAVE HIS TOT ALONE!
|