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The following ditty was being circulated around the ships in the early 1960's and I duly made a copy to send home. Since then I had forgotten all about it until I came across it once more. What
is a Sailor? Between the security of childhood and the insecurity of second childhood we find a fascinating group of humanity called sailors. They
come in all assorted sizes, weights and sobriety. They can be found
anywhere, on ships at sea, in shore bases, in bars, in love and always
in debt. Girls love them, towns tolerate them and the government
support them. A sailor is laziness with a pack of cards; bravery with X
tattooed arms and the protector of the sea with a copy of ‘Men
Only’. They
have the energy of a turtle; the slyness of a fox, the brains of an
idiot, the stories of a sea captain, the sincerity of a liar and
aspirations of a Casanova and when he wants something it is usually
connected with a ‘request form’. Some
of his interests are: - Women, dames, girls, females and the opposite
sex. He dislikes answering letters, wearing his uniform Pusser’s
style, the ‘Old Man’, the ‘Jimmy’ and officers, Pusser’s grub
and ‘wakey wakey’. No
one else can cram into one small pocket; a little green book, a packet
of crushed Players, a picture of his girl, a comb, an old station card
and what is left of his last fortnights pay. He
likes to spend some of his money on girls, some on beer, some on poker
and the rest foolishly. A sailor is a magic creature; you can lock him out of your home but not your heart. You can scratch him off your mail list, but not off your mind. His is your long away from home love and your one and only bleary-eyed good for nothing bundle of worries, but all your shattered dreams become insignificant when your sailor docks, looks at you with those bloodshot eyes and says – “Hiya Honey”
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