"
You are better off, my TOMMY, than the Navy Rank and File,
You _may_ chance to get promotion,--arter waiting a good while--
But the tip-top of Tar luck's to be a Warrant Officer;
We ain't like to get no further, if we even get _as_ fur.
'Tain't encouraging, my hearty. As for me, I'm old and grey,
'Tis too late now for promotion if it chanced to come _my_ way;
And my knowledge, and my patter, and my manners--well I guess
They mayn't be percisely fitted for a dandy ward-room mess.
But the Navy of the Future, TOMMY ATKINS, is our care,
We have gone through many changes, and for others must prepare.
It will make the Navy popular, more prospect of advance;
And what I say is, TOMMY,--_let the young uns have a chance!_
Some I know will cry "Impossible," and slate the scheme like fun.
Most good things are "impossible," my TOMMY,--_till they're done!_
Quarter-decks won't fill from fokesels, not to any great extent;
But, give good men a better chance! I guess that's all that's meant.
As the _Times_ says, werry sensible and kind-like, preju_dice_,
Though strong at first, dies quickly, melts away like thaw-struck ice;
If every brave French soldier, with a knapsack on his back,
_May_ find a Marshal's baton at the bottom of that pack,
Why should not a true British Tar, with pluck, and luck, and wit,
Find at last a "Luff's" commission hidden somewheres in his kit?
* * * * *
WAKING THEM UP.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34