Hydrogen off Gravesend

Erith Yacht Club

The finest sailing water on the tidal Thames

Club Ship 'Folgefonn'

Anchor Bay,

Erith, Kent, DA8 2AD

Tel 01322 332943

Secretary Tel 0208 310 2686

email - secretary@erithyachtclub.org.uk

My Old Man's a Yachtsman

(Chorus)
My old man's a yachtsman, he wear's a yachtsmans hat,
He wear's a Javlin jacket and he looks a proper pratt,
He's got posh leather deck shoes, and yellow welly boots,
Marlin spike, shackle key and bright red Musto suit

Some folks like to go sailing,some folks stay in the bar,
Some folks get stuck on mud banks some prefer to go
That-lovely EYC can. get into your blood
If you don't like it, bloody well bike it, join a cycling club.

Some boats have twanged up backstays, winches fore and aft,
Tuned right up for racing they must be bloody daft.
You've got to have the baked beans, toilet rolls and grog,
Baggy sails, galvanised nails and a wood seat on the bog.

The Folgefonn's fine ship its got glassfibre decks,
It's a she but it must be of indeterminate sex,
There's no cars on the car deck no paying passengers too,
But there's whisky in the wheelhouse and beer stored in the loo.

There's trailers large and trailers small and trailers with big wheels on,
And when you want to change your boat there's trailers to do deals on,
But trailers rust and turn to dust and all disintegratin,
Wheels fall off, Edmonds gets mad it's all just so frustratin.

The mooring barge is very large and painted with bitumen,
Yuo take your tutn to strain and heave when mooring time is loomin,
With diesel winch and motor launch it's now not very hairy,
Prepare to welcome new recruits Wayne Sleep and Julian Clary.

Pettit does the wiring, hes's currently employed,
In putting in a wanking ring by all to be enjoyed,
Wiring up vibrators is Brians favorite job,
He never thought that people bought an electronic knob.

They're building pretty houses around the club this year,
All chintz and plastic dado, they'll show us up I fear,
We'll have to stop the farting and pissing in the tide,
Get planting bloody flowers with wife swapping on the side.

A Friend of ours goes sailing, far across the sea,
And used to make his fortune from selling duty free,
That bloody lot in Brussels have put an end to this,
Now he smuggles English beef to France to really take the piss.

The toilet block's a'coming, it's costing quite a sum,
The problem's where the poop goes, when it leaves your bum,
To dump it in the river would cause quite a fuss,
So let's say fifty thousand, stick a cork right up your nuss.

If you go sailing 'with Welshmen, you'd better take buckets of suds,
Trouble is they get so pissed they sail on to the muds,
They call the river Bobbys, wishing to get plucked,
'Is that Taffy and the 'Commodore? Well you can go and get f..

An unsuspecting yachtsman, went a bit too far
When he wandered down to Erith and bought Hamble Star,
A smoothly balding salesman, said it was a winner,
And included in the purchase price, a buckshee Christmas dinner,

The Star it never floated, he never got a sail,
I'll sort that bloody salesman out, you could hear him loudly wail,
I wasted all that money, and the Christmas grub was dire,
So I'm drying out that Hamble Star for that Salesman's funeral pyre

If you should see a yachtsman, looking all pale and sad,
Don't kick 'im up the oilies.
It might be my old dad!!!!!


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