The Bos'n, the Gunner and Me
The Bos'n, the gunner and me, lads, were
each of us mighty sweet,
On a Portsmouth lass named Polly as was know as the pride of the fleet,
But when we got our orders to sail for the Golden West,
Why, little Poll, she scarce could tell which one of us she loved best,
Which one of us she loved best.
Oh, sweet Poll on Portsmouth quay she gave us kisses three,
A kiss on the cheek for the Bos'n and Gunner but one on the lips for me.
As was only a plain A.B. m'lads, only a plain A.B.
A kiss on the cheek for the Bos'n and Gunner
But one on the lips for me.
We'd "Yellow Jack" on board, lads, way out in Barbados,
The Bos'n and Gunner, sad to say, they both turned up their toes.
So we found them a neat little berth, lads, at the foot of a tamarind tree,
And we left them sleeping high-and-dry on the shores of the Western Sea,
On the shores of the Western Sea.
Then I thought of Portsmouth quay, and Poll who loved all
And I thought as she'd lost both the Bos'n and Gunner she'd better make sure of me
As was only a plain A.B., m'lads, only a plain A.B.
I thought as she'd lost both the Bos'n and Gunner
She'd better make sure of me.
We finished-up the cruise, lads, and when ashore I got,
Well, Poll and me, with many's the kiss, agreed to "slice the knot",
I took her "for better or worse", lads, but a nod's as good as a wink,
And if there's things a Tar can't say, there's lots as he can think,
There's lots as he can think.
And I think of Portsmouth quay, and those happy days - and
When little Poll first shook her curls at the Bos'n, the Gunner and me,
And I think of the tamarind tree on the shores of the Western Sea
And oh, don't I wish as the Bos'n or Gunner had got her instead of me!