Legman Poem...

AGCM Fred Baillie, USN, Ret.

While diggin around in an old trunk the other day I came across a poem written by AG2 Dave Stewart who was one of my troops in OA division on the maiden MED voyage of the Eisenhower sometime during the period Jan-Jun 1978 or 79....I did have a few cold ones and I did slip while entering the liberty port in Naples(choppy seas) and it did require about 20 stitches and I did give everyone a bad time about getting it fixed up...so this poem tells the story prettty good. I know its not politically correct nowadays and I'm not exactly proud of it, but I just think its a good poem and some old goats may get a kick out of it, so I wanted to share it...by the way the original legman was an AG3 who did break his leg in GTMO during ORI...stuff happens. so here it is....

"the legman revisited from the sea"....

Hail..Hail to you all who thought that OA
had lost its poor legman...not so I say.
for recently 'ore the mediterranean sea
the ghost of st legman returned...naturally.
that hapless, ungainly spirit of bad luck
has proven again he's the master of foul-up.
oh again he has shown he's the injury sage
by endeavoring to slip...thereby wastign his leg.

and not to be bettered by legman of old
the new legman hoisted his fire water as bold.
he heavily drank much peroni beer
with each empty can, chief let out a cheer.

head swirling, still smiling and swaggering back
he thought of sweet slumber so soon in his rack.
alas...he spied his salvation...the liberty boat
smirking and swearing... he started to gloat.

requesting permission, he sprang from the pier
whileinside his belly sloshed gallons of beer.
that liquid unbalanced his unsteady flight
he landed quite awkward...the start of his plight.

the legman misjudged the boat from the metal
and in his own words, landed..."arse ore tea kettle"
from the liberty boat there arose a refrain
and legman glared back, though reeling in pain.

but slowly he rose and adjusted his sash
forgetting his leg with its vertical gash.
the shore patrol pleaded...the corpsman implored
but legman looked ike-ward...their cries he ignored.

throughout the return, his mates oowed and aawed
the legman so bubbily...just laughed and guffawed.
tied-up, disembarked on the poop deck he exclaimed,
"the legman's on IKE...though now somewhat lame.

he hobbled on down to the mess... as they say
where he gobbled down sandwich, pickles and hay.
he devoured the food from large frigidaires
from his leg blood still ooozed and matted the hairs.

and he glancing downward, said..."who gives a hoot"
if the blood from my leg is filling my boot.
but then, a few mates said with some zest,
"Legman" for medical purposes...YOU'RE UNDER ARREST".

to sickbay they marched with legman in arms
they were sure that alone he'd do more harm
then prone on the table with no sandwich to bite
doc said, "Legman, how bout some stitches tonight " ??

he awoke the next morning all nestled in bed
with blood on the sheets and mud in his head.
an unfortunate victum, now legman by name
had survived yet another...bout with infame.

on land, through the air...'ore the oceans will go
the ghost of st legman whose ultimate goal
was to plunder...asunder our sailors... them all
to first tank 'em up and then give 'em a fall.