The executive officer wears the gold
But the chief's the fellow who runs the ship.
He's boss of the men from deck to the hold.
So, boy, in his presence secure your lip.
The chief has hash marks on his sleeve,
And bitter words on the end of his tongue.
He's master, boy, from the time you leave
Till you're back in port and your last bell's rung.
The chief has the salt of the sea in his hair.
His eyes are as sharp as a gull's in flight.
According to him he's been everywhere.
He may be old, but he can fight.
He is wise to sailors; their tricks he knows.
If you think to fool him, he'll prove you're wrong.
When the chief gives an order, my boy, It goes
So do as he says and you'll get along.
Printed in the The Monument, USS BUNKER HILL (CV 17),
July 22, 1944