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THE FRINGES OF THE FLEET

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In Lowestoft a boat was laid,

Mark well what I do say!

And she was built for the herring trade,

But she has gone a-rovin', a-rovin', a-rovin',

The Lord knows where!


They gave her Government coal to burn,

And a Q.F. gun at bow and stern,

And sent her out a-rovin', etc.


Her skipper was mate of a bucko ship

Which always killed one man per trip,

So he is used to rovin', etc.


Her mate was skipper of a chapel in Wales,

And so he fights in topper and tails —

Religi-ous tho' rovin', etc.


Her engineer is fifty-eight,

So he's prepared to meet his fate,

Which ain't unlikely rovin', etc.


Her leading-stoker's seventeen,

So he don't know what the Judgments mean,

Unless he cops 'em rovin', etc.


Her cook was chef in the Lost Dogs' Home,

Mark well what I do say!

And I'm sorry for Fritz when they all come

A-rovin', a-rovin', a-roarin' and a-rovin',

Round the North Sea rovin',

The Lord knows where!


Sea Warfare

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