For if they don't it's ten to one it's R.I.P. for you?
Although perhaps you can't be blamed—your motives may be pure—
You're rather new to submarines—in fact, an amateur;
But we'd like to take your job awhile and show you how it's done,
And leave you on the long patrol to wait your brother Hun.
You wouldn't like the job, my lad—the motors turning slow,
You wouldn't like the winter-time—storm and wind and snow;
You'd find it weary waiting, Fritz—unless your faith is strong—
Up and down on the long patrol—How long, O Lord, how long?
We don't patrol for merchant ships, there's none but neutrals there,