Now hear this, now hear this,
how the gals that I've known
were all skin and bone, no looks, no dough,
and no form, but that don't mean a thing
when a sailor's on a fling, cause
Well, it's Annie O' Ford in a storm.
They may spend my pay in less than a day,
but, I don't give a darn.
Because after six months at sea,
they all look good to me.
And it's Annie O' Ford in
a storm.
Now, in a swab jockey's life
There ain't no room for a wife
Well, it's so hard to keep out of harm
Cause there's women galore
When a sailor's on shore
And it's any old thwart in a storm
Now the buzz boys can go
to a party or show
And the dog faces laugh up that corner
But give a sailor a dame,
be she fat, thin or lame
And it's any old port in a storm
Well, the gals, I recall,
ain't got nothin' at all,
but still they were breathing
and warm.
But after six months at sea,
any old gal looks good to me,
cause it's any old board in a storm.
You