Through the heaving Gulf of Lyons.
But there followed days of sunshine,
Sea and sky as blue as Reckitt’s,
When he wished he’d joined the Navy,
Wished he’d gone and been a sailor,
When his only care was wondering
If he’d have another sherry.
What a periscope would look like,
Where on earth he’d left his life-belt,
Wondering still where they were bound for,