Up Spirits

* Up Spirits: Ode to a tot of rum
There once was a time  in H.M.Ships,
When the magic hour had come.
The leading hands of every  mess
… … Prepared to collect the rum.
The smell of Jamaican filled the air
As the ritual began
A daily tot of Nelson’s Blood
Was a  favourite to every man.
When the Rum Bosun stood, his measure  poised
To serve every man his tot.
Two fingers always in the ‘cup  ‘
Making sure that the ‘Queen ‘got her lot.’
The ‘ticker off’ was  there, of course
His pencil at the ready,
With a sipper given from each  man’s tot
His hand was no longer steady.
The rum rat sat, his eyes  aglow
His whiskers twitching well
He liked his rum so much it seems
He  could get pissed just on the smell.
Sometimes the tots were passed  around
As each man paid his debts
Favour, rubber, game of crib
Could  cost a couple of wets.
Then came the time to sup the ‘ Queens ‘
“God  Bless Her “was the toast
A watchful eye, as each man supped.
So the Rum  Bosun got the most.
Once the rum had been consumed
And nothing left to  pour;
The dits began, as the ‘Grog’ took charge,
Of favourite runs  ashore.
A feed, a fight, a couple of pints
Was part of a run  ashore.
A game of darts was in there too
Then all night in with a Pompey  Lill.
No longer though, does the scent of rum
Pervade her Majesty’s  boats.
No more to sup Lord Nelson’s Blood
And give the Queen her  toasts.
So to all who drank Lord Nelson’s Blood
And heard the Klaxon’s  blast
May old shipmates meet and share a wet
Spinning dits of the good  times passed.
A toast then to Horatio
And another to the Queen.
And  may we all, wherever we are
Remember where we’ve been!
Amen to  that!  Up Spirits, Stand Fast the Holy Ghost..
 
Thanks Dusty for the ditty.