He joined in the days when being Jack was fun
He’d step in “DB’s” and Levis for another great run
A Seiko on his wrist and “Winnies” in his pocket
Adrift the next morning and another great rocket.

A few beers down at Rockers then up to the Shit-Fight
Across to “TTs” and “VRs” to finish the night
Stagger down Macleay for a pizza at Pete’s
A maggotty at Harry’s and the night was complete.

Next day back on board with a head that was sore
He’d open his wallet and check out the score
He remembers last night as stand easy comes round
In the mess with a brew “warries” abound.

He would step with messmates a fine bunch of jacks
They protect each other watch each other’s backs
He didn’t need R.A, no need for a wife
With so many mates he loved his mess life.

The fun out at sea with games nights and the like
Boxing on the uppers or a Melbourne Cup night
When crossing the line the bears they would hunt
No bitching from Jack with sump on his rump

He’d sail off to Asia as one of our best
After a night in Honkers and have tats on his chest
Then over to Subic and off to Manila
Down the Roxas Boulevard life was a thriller.

He’d run down the ‘Wang and eat crab with old Moe
Drink bottles of Anchor on the ‘Wang patio
Then thunder into town as the night wasn’t complete
’til he did the flamers and saw the sunrise over Bugis Street.

He’d deploy to the IO to work with the Yanks
Go ashore in Mombasa and play sunshine bar pranks
He’d visit India and Ceylon but the Seychelles were the best
The European tourist showing him their bare chest.

He stayed out of trouble got promoted through the ranks
Commissioned an FFG and had fun with the Yanks
He got drunk in Tijuana toured the West Coast
But Las Vegas was the place that he loved the most.

The Gulf War came along and DC was now back
Probans and steel caps, no more sandals for Jack
Then females at sea time to adjust his demeanour
He’s no longer looked after by those who are senior.

Then he had reviews, TTP, SCRS, RANCIS and SCRIT
I don’t think there’s a Jack not affected a bit
When will they stop and leave poor Jack alone
Years from now, do they want a clone?

The times they are a changin’ now we’re politically correct
The Jack dear to us all is virtually wrecked
He can’t watch his blueys or spin warries in the Mess
Can’t swear when in public or drink to excess.

Jack will soon be a memory to bring out once a year
To march on ANZAC Day and acknowledge the cheers
He’ll still spin his warries add a bit to each tale
To ensure to his listeners that they never become stale.

But don’t feel despondent please don’t despair
‘Cause I am still Jack inside and I really do care
I was lucky enough and feel privileged to say
I was an Australian Jack and I won’t fade away.