Let There be no Moaning at the Bar

Let There Be No Moaning at the Bar

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 the days gone by
With the thoughts that forever last.
Of the bell bottom blues,
Round white hats,
And good times in their past.


They recall long nights
With the moon so bright
Far out into the lonely sea.
The thoughts they had
As youthful lads,
When their lives were wild and free.


They know so well
How their hearts would swell
When the flag fluttered proud and free.
The underway pennant
Such a beautiful sight
As they plowed through an angry sea.


They talked of the scran
Ol’ cookie would make
And the shrill of the bos’n 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
Spent in bawdy houses
On many foreign shore,
Of the beer they’d down
As gathering around,
Telling jokes with a busty whore.


Their sailing days
Are gone away,
Never again will they cross the brow.
They have no regrets,
They know they are blessed,
For honoring the sacred vow.


Their numbers grow less
With each passing day
As the final muster begins,
There’s nothing to lose,
All have paid their 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 is commanding the crew.