MY '50'S SUMMER CRUISE
A Seventy-Year Reflection
I'd sweated through Exam Week, but Whoops! I'd barely passed,
The Mighty MO was waiting, 'twas off on cruise at last—
Eight "cans", one battlewagon, we sailed to Boston, first,
Then down to New York harbor, where we might quench a thirst.
We bid farewell to Gotham, set sail for Panama,
The shore's delights were tempting, few damsels wore a bra—
Up anchor, bound for Gitmo, we sipped on cold Hatuey,
No liberty in Cuba, to which we answered Phooey!
Our doughty little squadron steered clear of lesser craft,
We did our daily dozen, we swept down, fore and aft,
We scrubbed and chipped and painted, we holystoned the decks,
We manned the signal halyards, no thought for suds or sex.
Heigh-ho for dear old Crabtown, we had the Dome in sight,
Our classmates now were Youngsters, hail, Greenbury's green light!
The launches came to greet us, we'd voyaged with the fleet,
But with one stripe came pleasure--the new Plebes were our meat!
5-27-20
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