Author Unknown


Listen civilians and you shall hear,
A tale that may sound rather queer.
'Twas the Second of June in '42,
That I raised my hand and said, "I Do,"
And the gold braid smiled and said, "That vow,
Means you are in the Coast Guard now."
He told us we would sail the shore,
Of seven seas and maybe more,
And that our duty was to keep,
Stern vigil on the briny deep.
He said we'd stand on stormy decks,
And search the sea for helpless wrecks.
That we would dress in Navy blue,
And join up with a good ships crew,
And to learn to face the ocean gale.
And heave a buoy across the rail.
He promised we would enjoy the
Gay life of a sailor boy.
Thus he did speak and sounded great,
But ah, the fickle hand of fate;
You'll find his audience today,
On horse patrol on Half Moon Bay.
They locked us up in quarantine,
And such a time you have never seen.
And the a fellow with a "crow,"
Told us things we had to know.
They showed us how to heave a lead,
But not a single thing was said,
To teach us how to hold a course,
Along a beach aboard a horse.

They taught us how to row a boat,
And why they sink and why they float.
But what is all this knowledge worth,
If you can't cinch a saddle girth?
We learned to tie a becket bend,
And which hand grips the bitter end.
But now I don't care which is which,
When I can't tie a halter hitch.
And how my horse stood a laughed,
When I first soogied down his aft.
I learned to talk with signal flags,
But just try them on these old nags.
By Bluejacket's Manual don't exactly say,
Just how to break a bale of hay;
And often I wished I knew,
How to reverse my horse's screw.
I used to think by now I'd be,
A salty sailor on the sea.
Our only salt I must assert,
Is what my horse eats for dessert.
Oh, I remember very well,
My maiden voyage on "Old Nell."
I climbed aboard; she her neck,
And I slid off her after deck.
The cutter's sail away to war,
And leave us "Sand Peeps" on the shore.
If Japs we should perceive,
We call the Army, then we leave.
But if we spot a saboteur,
We hide and watch until we're sure.
And then we mount our horse and run,
To get some bullets for our gun.
And once a week we dress in blues,
And shake the sand out of our shoes.
And then off to town, Ah that's the life,
To step out with some sailor's wife.
The ships sail on, but here we stand,
Among the seaweed on the sand.
And when at last the war is won,
And the people ask how it was done,
The whole wide world at last shall learn,
About the blisters on our stern.
So saddle up and mount your horse,
And steer him on his dandy course.
You're making history today,
On horse patrol at Half Moon Bay.
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