_Note: The author of the following poem is an ex-sailor who now lives in Long Beach, California. It is a poem that all red-blooded men should read and then ponder a bit. Here is the writer’s prelude, explaining how he happened to bring forth such a gem:_ _“In and out of the service, I have noted that when two or more men engage in conversation, their talk eventually turns to women. Women—bad, indifferent, and sometimes good—is generally the chief topic of the man, but when one brings in some word about a good woman, he is often silenced by stares or cutting remarks. Recently I was confined in a naval brig (no need to mention the offense), and a conversation was being carried on in the “bull pen” that caused me to write the following lines:_ E. H. GANTENBEIN Pipe down, fellows, let me talk, please— Settle yourselves in comfort, make yourselves at ease— I have a few questions I’d like to put to you, You’ll find them very aged, not one of them is new. You’ve just been talking “women,” and the places you have been, And the happy times you’ve had, and the “drunks” on Gordon gin; While you tell of the pretty girl you met in Gay Paree, And the one you took from your shipmate while he was far at sea; The one at Valparaiso, you said she had black eyes, And the girl who lives in ’Frisco, who took you by surprise— You’ve jabbered for an hour or more, and mentioned many a name, You’ve traveled clear around the world and found no two the same. Now listen, fellow shipmates, while talking about your girls Have you ever thought of the two at home, more precious to you than pearls? How they’re watching, waiting, hoping—sending prayers to God for you, Asking him to guide you onward, to keep you straight and true. Believing in you always, where’er you chance to roam, Looking forward to the time when you’ll be coming home. Now I’ll ask you, fellow shipmates, answer if you can: Have you always lived an honest life; can you call yourself a man? Can you go back to your home town and make that girl your wife, And clasp your mother in your arms and know you have that right? Now these are the questions I would ask, so, shipmates, do your part, Think of the road you’ve traveled and answer from your heart. * * * * * A Sailor’s Delight By HAROLD TAYLOR When I was young and handsome, It was always my delight To go to balls and dances And stay out late at night. ’Twas at a ball I met him, He asked me for a dance, I knew he was a sailor By the buttons on his pants. His shoes were nicely polished, His hair was neatly combed, I danced with him all evening, Then he asked to see me home. He pressed me to him gently, Then heaved a heavy sigh And said: “Dear Nellie, darling, My love will never die.”