It was in March
twenty years ago, or was it twenty three
I was coming down
the gangway, giving orders, can’t you see
The bloke there
on the wharf was quick, but he could not be seen
He snapped me
walking down the brow, for Penthouse magazine
I’ve kept that
photo all my life, it is my only claim to fame
And if you doubt
my rugged looks, I’ll tell you once again
How I got my very
ugly mug on a fake men’s magazine
I don’t care that
it’s not real, I was so young and so pristine
The years have
passed, the beard is grey, that uniform is gone
Swapped for a bigger
version, but I’ll try not to prattle on
I loved those
days, I had a ball, I was trim, taut and terrific
There were no
wars, when we sailed around the islands of the Pacific
The times have
changed, the years have passed, I’m wiser and I’m older
That photograph,
I was so cool, I had the eye of the beholder
I loved the times
I had at sea, but it was a young man’s game
And while there’s
lots of things I’d do again, some would not be the same
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