Pipe down, fellows, let me talk, please—
Settle yourselves in comfort, make yourselves at ease—
I have a few questions I’d like to put to you,
You’ll find them very aged, not one of them is new.
You’ve just been talking “women,” and the places you have been,
And the happy times you’ve had, and the “drunks” on Gordon gin;
While you tell of the pretty girl you met in Gay Paree,
And the one you took from your shipmate while he was far at sea;
The one at Valparaiso, you said she had black eyes,
And the girl who lives in ’Frisco, who took you by surprise—
You’ve jabbered for an hour or more, and mentioned many a name,
You’ve traveled clear around the world and found no two the same.
Now listen, fellow shipmates, while talking about your girls
Have you ever thought of the two at home, more precious to you than pearls?
How they’re watching, waiting, hoping—sending prayers to God for you,
Asking him to guide you onward, to keep you straight and true.
Believing in you always, where’er you chance to roam,
Looking forward to the time when you’ll be coming home.
Now I’ll ask you, fellow shipmates, answer if you can:
Have you always lived an honest life; can you call yourself a man?
Can you go back to your home town and make that girl your wife,
And clasp your mother in your arms and know you have that right?
Now these are the questions I would ask, so, shipmates, do your part,
Think of the road you’ve traveled and answer from your heart.
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