When it backs us with a "Leader" arter printing our "Appeal."
You are better off, my TOMMY, than the Navy Rank and File,
You may chance to get promotion,—arter waiting a good while—
But the tip-top of Tar luck's to be a Warrant Officer;
We ain't like to get no further, if we even get as fur.
'Tain't encouraging, my hearty. As for me, I'm old and grey,
'Tis too late now for promotion if it chanced to come my way;
And my knowledge, and my patter, and my manners—well I guess
They mayn't be percisely fitted for a dandy ward-room mess.
But the Navy of the Future, TOMMY ATKINS, is our care,