Betty Stogs

An ode of adoration, penned by our former First Mate for his Beloved Betty, with whom he made a tryst whene’er we docked in the pretty town of Falmouth.  Being an agent for Skinner’s Brewery, Betty is prone to push her Cornish Knockers in a very slightly salacious manner, and it could be this led our officer astray. The rest of the crew think she’d make quite a nice bloke.

Farewell to your wines and whiskies
Your brandies and your grogs
I’d sail the world and back again
For a pint of Betty Stogs
If you’re under the weather, or green around the gills
She will get your colour back and cure you of your ills
For rickets, plague and scurvy, and that flu you get from hogs
She’ll set you right, if you spend the night
With Doctor Betty Stogs
She’s tall and dark and handsome, with a head so pale and fair
And the taste of her upon your lips, is way beyond compare
I’d risk the mate’s displeasure, his lashings and his flogs
To disobey and stow away
With a pint of Betty Stogs
With just one sip of Betty’s, you’ll swim the ocean wide
You’ll leap up to the masthead and command the winds and tide
You’ll laugh at storms and rainclouds,
You’ll see through mists and fogs
You’ll do all that, and you’ll never grow fat
If you’re drinkin’ Betty Stogs
When your rations are exhausted, you’re freezing cold and wet
And the weevils in your biscuits is the only meat you’ll get
When the slop they serve is only fit for throwing to the dogs
You can feed the crew and the officers too,
On a pint of Betty Stogs
Oh Betty you have made us the men we are today
Fightin’ fit and full of grit, courageous bold and gay
No other balms or unctions, or nectars of the gods
Will make your rudder shudder, like
A pint of Betty Stogs
Chorus… (x 2)