You've seen him on the street

Rolling round on groggy feet

You've despised him when he's been on a spree

On a dark and lonely ship

Through a submarine and mine infested sea.

You have cheered the navy lads

On their heavy ironclads

You can spare a cheer for Tommy Atkins too.

You may have a touch of funk

When you read 'Big mail boat sunk',

Did you think of the merchant service crew.

You have mourned the cost

of every vessel lost

It has put you in a pessimistic mood.

But you never said "Well done!"

Or congratulated one,

Who helps to bring your wife and kiddies food.

He has brought your wounded home

Through a mine infested zone

He has ferried all your troops to France by night.

He belongs to no brigade,

Is neglected, underpaid--

Yet is often in the thickest of the fight.

He has fought the lurking hun

With an ancient four inch gun

And he's done his bit to get them on the run

Yet you've never heard him  boast

To the folks that need him most...

In fact he's rather reticent and glum.

Wouldn't you feel that way too, If, no matter what you do,

You're still another merchant service bum?

He can collar huns and smite'em

To the real 'Ad infinitum'

And as for wops he doesn't give a damn

His social standing's nil and you regard him as a pill,

But you've got to hand it to him... He's a man.

- Written by one of us who has since lost his life by enemy action.