*The Naval Brigade*

When you're pickin' your men for a fight, When choosin' the corps that'll serve, It's only quite proper an' right To fix upon muscle an' nerve, An' so, to your heavy Dragoons-- Your Granny-dear Guards an' their band-- To your Sappers with bridgin' pontoons, You can buckle the Lower Deck Hand!

(The Lower Deck Hand Doesn't want any band; He's grit, an he's sand Is the Lower Deck Hand.)

His march is a go-as-you-please; He most keeps step with hisself! For his boots ain't conducive to ease, Bein' mostly kept packed on a shelf! Tho' he isn't so span or so spic-- Tho' his marchin' ain't what you'd call grand-- He gets to the front just as quick Does the elegant Lower Deck Hand!

(The Lower Deck Hand Wasn't reared in the Strand; But he's good to command, Is the Lower Deck Hand.)

You may swear by the jolly marines, 'Per marey, per tarey' they fight-- Not speakin' for them in their 'teens-- I don't mind admittin' your right. But all that the Joey has got, As I'd have all the world understand, He's learnt--well, he's learnt quite a lot From his tooter--the Lower Deck Hand!

(The Lower Deck Hand Is a mine that's unpanned; An' he's yours to command, Is the Lower Deck Hand.)

He doesn't shape well at Reviews, I've known him to spit in the ranks; But we've never been asked to excuse A fault, when he's guarding the flanks. An' when there's a break in the square Or a place where the Line cannot stand, I'll tell you the chap to put there-- 'Jack Mullow'--the Lower Deck Hand.

(The Lower Deck Hand Will die as he 'll stand; He's tempered an land, Is the Lower Deck Hand.)

When you're hemmed in a tight little hole, By a greatly outnumbering foe, It's a matter of stokin' an' coal How far we're away from the foe. When the Infantry's needin' some aid, When the 'tillery gets under-man'd,-- Make way for the Naval Brigade!-- His Highness the Lower Deck Hand!

(The Lower Deck Hand With his guns he can land, An he'll kick up some sand, Will the Lower Deck Hand.)