Lest We Forget

Sometimes when the bands are playing
And the uniforms march by
You will find a seaman watching
With a wistful-looking eye
And you know just what he's thinking
As he hears the cheering crowd
As the soldiers and the sailors
Swing along, erect and proud.
He is thinking that his country
Saves its honor once again
For the uniforms, forgetting
All the seas' forgotten men.
He is thinking of the armies
And the food and fighting tanks
That for every safe arrival
To the seamen owe their thanks.
He is thinking of those buddies
Who have paid the final score,
Not in khaki or in the Navy
But the working clothes they wore;
And we'd like to tell him something
That we think he may not know
A reminder he can stow away
Wherever he may go.
All your countrymen are proud of you
And though there's no brass band
Not a bugle or a banner
When the merchant seamen land,
We know just the job you're doing
In your worn-out work clothes
On the seas where death is lurking
And a fellow's courage shows.
So be sure to keep your chin up
When the uniforms parade
What a man wears doesn't matter
It's the stuff of which he's made.

Anonymous

Image: Swell, Southern Ocean, Stuart Klipper, 1992.