Official book of HMAS Quiberon trip 1962

You Jest!

THE TWELVE BOTTLES:

I had twelve botles of whiskey in my cellar and was told by my wife to empty the contents of each and every bottle down the sink - 'or else'! So I said I would and proceeded with the sad task.

I withdrew the cork from the first bottle and threw the contents down the sink, with the exception of one glass which I drank. I pulled the cork from the second bottle and did likewise, with the exception of one glass which I drank. I pulled the cork from the third bottle and poured the whiskey down the sink, which I drank. I extracted the cork from the fourth bottle down the sink, poured the bottle from the cork of the next and drank one sink out of it then threw the rest down the glass, which I drank. I pulled the sink out of the next glass and poured the cork down the bottle, which I drank.

When I had everything emptied I steadied the house with one hand and counted the glasses, corks, bottles and sinks, which were 29, with the other hand. As the house came by again I counted them once more and finally had all the houses in one bottle, which I drank.

I'm not under the affluence of incohol although some thinkle peep I am! I'm not half so thunk as you might drink. I fool so feelish I didn't know who is me and the drunker I stand here the longer I get . . .

You will note that the crew abounded with budding "Banjo Pattersons" from the following:

The Sharp End
The 'Sharp End' is a pleasent sight In harbour when the weather's right, At sea our George is not so gay; Free from soot but not from spray; Upon this tiddly vast domain Great streaks of rust his heart does pain.	His army moves up on deck once more, With chipping hammers by the score, Their music rings from far and near Which does annoy the Engineer. When the siren of the Star Ferry sounds The Super Deck will be out of bounds

O.K. Corral

There's two coil of rope up there or more.
(Fitz will stop them, he knows the score)
Fore and aft and across the ship,
Some one will hang if over they slip.

To get to the FX you need a map,
Don't try by night or a leg you'll snap;
There's coir, manila and sisal too,
It'll take a miracle to ever get through.

The worst of all is when the paint is dry
It will take Fitz a week those knots to untie
He'll go into a panic and start to yell
(You can tell by his eyes when he's mad as hell)
So keep off Tops as much as you can,
Don't tangle with Fitz he's a hell of a man
Stay off the paint till it is dry
Or you'll see a grown man break down and cry

Signville

Right down aft you'll get a thrill
When you wander about in our Signville
And see all the notices scattered about
(Put there to keep the 'goofers' out!)

Jim Dobbie's the one who writes them all,
They vary in size both large and small,
One says to get right off the place,
Another that Tops is the recreation space.

Jim's a quiet killick as well,
But step on his paint and he'll raise up hell;
He'll jut his jaw and throw out his chest
Most lads will leave, (they know what's best).

What's going to happen with this lot aboard?
There's 35 passengers and that's a Hoard*
Just think of his paint (for they can't read)
Get Wackatack* sign writer with haste and speed.

* This could relate to the Chinese seamen rescued from the freighter SS Tuscany
* "Wackatack", as our 'resident' Chinese bootmaker was known. He was a great sport too.