Correction Lyrics The Ballad of Transport 18 by Various Artists

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Lyrics

We were thirty-eight crewmen on Transport 18
The hour was late and the talk was obscene
When the raiders streaked down and their bright lasers cut
Some twenty-odd holes through her steel-plated gut

So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home

All the engines were dead and the life systems shot
And the ship leaking air like the steam off a pot
When the crew was accounted and all damage told
The last airtight chamber was the fifth cargo hold

So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home

So we yelled SOS with our beacons and flares
And we ran for the hold by the last standing stairs
We sealed off the ports and we gave a great cheer
When we found that the cargo was twelve tons of beer

So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home

We were fairly well mellowed when our answer came through
Via transporter sparkle and a brief flash of blue
'Twas a space suited Navy man, calm and correct
Though his green pointed ears weren't quite what you'd expect

So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home

He raised one long eyebrow as he noted our fun
And he calmly announced that our troubles weren't done
For his ship was off fighting the raiders alone
So we'd have to reach safety somehow on our own

So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home

He said, "There's a space station, not far at all
"We could reach in two days at a jet powered crawl
"Now jets are quite simple, we could build one from here
"Just a valve-line to the surface from one tank of beer."

So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home

So we cheered our salvation and we mourned for the brew
And we sealed on the pipes, as he showed us to do
Then we opened the fuel line with the ship aimed toward home
And we rode to the station on a long wake of foam

So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home

So at last when the ship came to take us in tow
Just an hour from the station with three tanks to go
We drank up the fuel and were feeling no pain
When the Navy man left us with a look of disdain

So pity us poor sailors, wherever we roam
For there's no guarantee that we'll ever come home
So cheer for us sailors, riding in on the foam
We were drunker than lords by the time we got home

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