GEOGRAPHICAL BACHELORS’ LAMENT
by David D. Hambleton
2003 at Gaeta, Italy
fond memory of the crews at Vic’s and Rendezvous
families who're gone 'cross the pond
Our loves of whom
we're so star-stricken fond
We meet at the pub evenings, bachelors of
From fetters of family unwillingly freed
We drink to our woes and to life's little
We drink to "No-Kidders," those
true sailors' stories
Our talk is of football and of cars and of
How she looks, how she sounds, and our fav'rite fender trimmin'
A great lot of providers are we, Geo-B's
We send checks and our love and prayers for
Knowing well our absence is crippling to our
We suppress that, ignore it,
To the Mission, to God, and to Country we
Our needs matter less than the wake at the
We're men full of hopes and of fears and
And asked "How's it going?" we're
"Tutto bene, all is well, I'm enjoying the freedom."
Are the lines we all wear like they'd mask
our needs some.
No family to tend, to guide and to lead
Shepherds without sheep, we're sadly in need
Anesthetize the husbandman languishing on the
Fowl overpopulate, moss overgrows the punt
Parked in quiet bower, the pitch requests
Small boat like big hearts in sad want of
Silly gooses wait for tickles knowing Daddy's
Bravely learn to recover without a kiss from
Don't think it, fake a sneeze, Man, wipe that
Before the glass, game, girl, or sea-tale is
Remember just a week or month to go 'til it's
(And with those FSA payments we'll be rollin' in high clover!)
So toss one back and spin a yarn that'll keep
We won't forget our wife though we be gawkin' and giraffin'
She's the one, moon and sun, forever-love and
It is she who appreciates that we're a little
Long waits Princess Faire; for us here while
Tending children alone, she drives the car,
mends the chair
Her dolor'd break
the spirit of any man heard the sound
Take a mighty warrior down, preventing him
from higher ground
So tight-lipped wise woman holds her tongue,
keeps her peace
Feeding the dogs and the kids and the blasted
Stoically stoking the heating stove's fires
Fiercely denying those passionate desires
To give us her mind, both barrels, in a shout
Or just change the locks, let us stay moved
"We're all good here" is more like
what she will say
To bolster her sailor-man for fighting today
"Please hurry home, we miss you, Dear."
But she's heartsick worried, 'tween the lines we can hear
Will we come home… or will we not?
Our vow on the Tome… have we forgot?
Will she our heart's desire still be?
Will we show true fidelity? Will she?
Have we broken that good faith already?
And, for all the
world, what about Naomi?
What about the waitress? Have we gone and looked?
(How out of proportion will that line get
Homecoming will come and that none too soon.
For whom yellow ribbons 'round old oak trees
We're to be found wherever old sailors gather
Come hoist a pint cheerfully, down with the
Don't shed a tear for our strenuous fate
For there comes a time; Oh, we're marking the
When we'll darken the door, come back from
To nuzzle the baby and good husband be
When long time apart spent in anticipation
Comes home, married lovers share blessed
Our passion, for aging, more character gets
And makes rumpled bed sheets; we'll need one
or two sets
Hey, let's make a magazine called Bachelor's
With push-pins in ports and Cousteau and all
And pictures and articles on football, cars
And a column for writing about your favorite
One could ruminate for a frightfully long
'Cause bored sailors rarely will run out of
Though after a while the pen-hand gets numb
"but honestly, Cap'n; ish not caused by the
Thoughts just like those keep us men-of-war
So we're almost never found mornings, asleep
on the lawn.
Without further ado, raise a glass for a
To those women in whom we glory and boast
To those who keep the home fires burning
And inspire our hearts (and loins) to
Who raise our children, keep them learning
And who hold our attention, heads a-turning
Although we're at opposite ends of the tides
May the Lord in His Greatness bless our
Have you hugged a Geographical Bachelor today?