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Fort Blockhouse

Did you see it on the telly?
That programme 'Submarine'.
Did it make you think of Blockhouse?
When we all did a Joining Routine.

Remember? We all had Station Cards
Which took us to different places?
All manned by Blockhouse Stanchions
With their happy smiling faces.

'Get it stamped at the Drafting Office',
Another marked D.S.E.A.
And one from the Victualling Office
With the initials 'G', 'T' or 'UA'.

It showed your name and rating
And the number of your Mess
Then they asked 'Who is your Next of Kin?'
As well as your home address.

When you had finished this Dolphin Marathon
Stand by for your next little shock
As you staggered along to the Ranch House
To be precise Pactolus Block

You'd be trying to sort your gear out
When the Killick says, 'Oi, 'ave a guess,
As well as being Dooty Watch
'oo d'yer fink is cook of the mess?'

The food was just like the Waldorf
Each meal needed God's special blessing.
What their Lordships now call 'Catering',
Jolly Jack called 'Canteen Messing'

Remember having Pot Mess
When everything went in?
Even Herrings in Tomato Sauce. Why?
No flipping labels on the tin!
That 3 badge bloke thinks he's Cordon Blue
Look out guts; you've had your warning.
That clacker he's shoving on the Steak & Kidney pie
Is stronger than a Pusser's awning.

Then those runs ashore in Pompey
As often as we were able
By way of Gosport Humpty backed bridge
And the ferry that worked on a cable.

We were right Stroppy Jack In our Bernard's suits
With those coveted submarines' cap tally
Then we'd stagger back as drunk as newts
Being sick in Squeeze Gut Alley

Before long they'd sort out your name
And you find you're in for a Draft
Just think I volunteered for this little lot
I must have been right Flaming Daft

The number of times I've heard blokes say
'I reckon I've had a green rub
when I leave this blasted navy
I won't even join a Christmas club'

But that's a load of old cobblers
Just say the words 'Diesel & shale',
And they'll spin you a yard of the days aboard us;
It's never been known to fail.

Now the wheel has gone full circle
As we natter to lads in the Fleet.
They talk about Bomber's, Sneakey's and Nukes
So, we quietly take a back seat

Old timers relax and watch telly
'Das Boat', 'Submarine' and the rest
The jobs in good hands, like it's always been
Though our navy may not be the biggest
Author: Unknown


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