Re: Corvettes: Flower Class
Posted: Mon Jun 28, 2021 2:25 pm
Presently the piano went back to a song. Windram played a few bars of 'The Road to the Isles', then stopped. It was the signal! When the lilting tune began again every voice in the wardroom started to sing what had now become almost a shanty in Canadian ships, written by a surgeon-lieutenant who had been in the Barber Pole Group:
It's away! Outward the swinging fo'c'sles reel
From the smoking sea's white glare upon the strand. It's the grey miles that are slipping under keel
When we're rolling outward-bound from Newfoundland From Halifax to Newfiejohn or 'Derry's clustered towers By trackless paths where conning towers roll.
If you know another group in which you'd sooner spend your hours,
You've never sailed beneath the Barber Pole! It's the grey seas that are slipping under keel
When you're rolling outward-bound from Newfoundland. So beware! Harbours that berth the Barber Pole,
If you'd keep the situation well in hand,
After grey seas that went slipping under keel
When we wallowed outward-bound from Newfoundland. Drink a whisky or a navy rum or drink a gin-and-lime Let inebriation be your final goal:
Pick a lady you've selected for a short and merry time, There's merry men beneath the Barber Pole!
After grey seas that went slipping under keel
When we wallowed outward-bound from Newfoundland. It's away! Astern of us the Western Islands die,
There's an ocean lies before us to be spanned.
It's the grey seas where sullen icebergs lie
When we're rolling inward-bound to Newfoundland. From Halifax to Newfiejohn or' Derry's clustered towers, By trackless paths where conning towers roll.
If you know another group in which you'd sooner spend your hours, You've never sailed beneath the Barber Pole!
It's the grey seas where sullen icebergs lie
When we're rolling inward-bound to Newfoundland.
It's away! Outward the swinging fo'c'sles reel
From the smoking sea's white glare upon the strand. It's the grey miles that are slipping under keel
When we're rolling outward-bound from Newfoundland From Halifax to Newfiejohn or 'Derry's clustered towers By trackless paths where conning towers roll.
If you know another group in which you'd sooner spend your hours,
You've never sailed beneath the Barber Pole! It's the grey seas that are slipping under keel
When you're rolling outward-bound from Newfoundland. So beware! Harbours that berth the Barber Pole,
If you'd keep the situation well in hand,
After grey seas that went slipping under keel
When we wallowed outward-bound from Newfoundland. Drink a whisky or a navy rum or drink a gin-and-lime Let inebriation be your final goal:
Pick a lady you've selected for a short and merry time, There's merry men beneath the Barber Pole!
After grey seas that went slipping under keel
When we wallowed outward-bound from Newfoundland. It's away! Astern of us the Western Islands die,
There's an ocean lies before us to be spanned.
It's the grey seas where sullen icebergs lie
When we're rolling inward-bound to Newfoundland. From Halifax to Newfiejohn or' Derry's clustered towers, By trackless paths where conning towers roll.
If you know another group in which you'd sooner spend your hours, You've never sailed beneath the Barber Pole!
It's the grey seas where sullen icebergs lie
When we're rolling inward-bound to Newfoundland.