Sailor, Rest your Oar

When your final dive is made, and your battery's running low,
You’ll know there lies a boat for you many fathoms here below,
With your annunciators are jammed on full and your depth gauge needles are bent,
Your accumulator is dry of oil and your air banks all are spent,

It's then you get to wonderin', "is my life's boat rigged for dive?"
Your guessing as a drill commences, "am I dead or still alive?"
You pace the flooded decks with scorn and curse the flaws of man.
Into realms of Rex you've stepped, and here you'll make your stand.

To live your life, as sailors must, at the bottom of the sea,
There's one you'll have to reckon with, that one, my friend, is thee.
Will your conscience do you justice when the final muster is in?
Did you lead the kind of life you should in every port you've been?

The answers to these questions and many, many more,
are locked in the hearts of sailormen from Cannes to Singapore.
So, when your day for mast rolls 'round. The choice is up to you,
Sailor chart your course of life right now. Chart it straight and true.

Now's the time to flood your tanks and trim up 'fore and aft.
It's a trifle late when the klaxon sounds to square away your craft.
Your final billet lies below, upon "Old Ocean’s" floor.
So, be ready when that last word is passed.

Sailor, rest your oar
we have the watch…..