Submitted by George E. Vincent


To wear crossed anchors takes

A very special man,

One who lives at sea, and not

On land.


He stands before you in proper

Coast Guard appearance,

Yet his face displays the scars

Of his endurance.


His job is that of no other rate,

The Coast Guard simply labels him

“Boatswains Mate.”


No matter what the elements he faces at sea,

If there’s a job to be done,

Then done it will be.


To wear the crossed anchors is an honour to him,

And nothing can take that from him.


You’ll never meet a man so easygoing,

Or hear such tunes on the pipe he is blowing.


Their days may be long and their night may be cold,

But they stick it out, the young and the old.


To wear the crossed anchors was a thrill to me,

Knowing that I too was a man of the sea.


There are no other men that deserve the respect,

Than those who trod the cold, dark deck.


So when you see a Coastie, look at his sleeve,

He may be on liberty, he may be on leave.


That sleeve displays the symbol of his rate,

You never know,

He just might be a “Boatswains Mate.”


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