Wings Over The Navy

Written for: Wings Of The Navy (1939)
Performer: Studio Orchestra (instrumental)
American lyric: Johnny Mercer
British lyric: Charles Dunn
Music: Harry Warren
Year: 1938
Original publisher: M. Witmark & Sons

American lyric:

Verse:

A sailor is a guy they call a gob,
A gob's a guy who has a deck to swab;
But listen all you country boys,
If ever you come to town,
And Uncle Sammy offers you a job,
Pick out the aviation when you put your moniker down;

Chorus 1:

Wings over the navy, wings over the sea,
We're top o' the service, the navy's cavalry,
High over the oceans, flying wide and free,
The soldiers, sailors and marines
Are demons at eating pork and beans,
Or posing in the magazines,
But we're the navy's eyes,
The Adm'ral's fireflies,
We're high-sky ridin' aeronautical guys,
Wings over the navy, sailing the seven skies.

Chorus 2:

Wings over the navy, wings over the sea,
We're top o' the service, the navy's cavalry,
High over the oceans, flying wide and free,
The soldiers, sailors and marines
Are demons at eating pork and beans,
Or posing in the magazines,
But if there's gonna be,
A fightin' jamboree,
The thing to do is let the enemy see,
Wings on the horizon, wings of the old navee!

British lyric:

Verse 1:

A sailor is a guy they call a tar,
A tar's a guy who sails the seas afar;
But listen all you country boys,
If ever you come to town,
And if you want some pips up or a star,
Pick out the aviation when you put your moniker down.

Chorus 1:

Wings over the navy, wings over the sea,
We're top o' the service, the navy's cavalry,
High over the oceans, flying wide and free,
The soldiers, sailors and marines
Are demons at pinching all the scenes,
Or posing in the magazines,
But we're the navy's eyes,
The Adm'ral's fireflies,
We're high-sky ridin' aeronautical guys,
Wings over the navy, sailing the seven skies.

Chorus 2:

Wings over the navy, wings over the sea,
We're top o' the service, the navy's cavalry,
High over the oceans, flying wide and free,
The soldiers, sailors and marines
Are demons at pinching all the scenes,
Or posing in the magazines,
But if there's gonna be,
A fightin' jamboree,
The thing to do is let the enemy see,
Wings on the horizon, wings of the old navee!

Verse 2:

You've got to hand it to the infantry,
Although they've never been to see the sea,
They've always got to slog along,
However it rains or snows.
But way up there you're roaming fancy free,
So get inside your flying suit and join the show of shows.

[Choruses]