low, you'll know there lies a boat for you many fathoms

here below, with your annunciators jammed on full and

your depth gauge needles bent your accumulators dry of

oil and your air banks are all spent. It's then you get to

wonderin` "is my life's boat rigged for dive?" Your guessing

drill commences, "Am I dead or still alive?"

You pace the flooded decks with scorn and curse the

flaws of man. Into the 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, that one my friend,

is thee. Will your conscience do you justice when the final

 muster's 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 around 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. So, be ready when the

last word's passed.

 "Sailor, Rest Your Oar."