Adapted from 'The Final Inspection'

The Royal Marine stood and faced God
Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining
Just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, you Royal Marine,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"

The Royal Marine squared his shoulders and
said, "No, Lord, I guess I ain't
Because those of us who carry guns
Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays
And at times my talk was tough,
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills got just too steep,

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear,
As sometimes, God forgive me,
I forgot that you were near.

I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here,
They never wanted me around
Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand,
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand."

There was a silence all around the throne
Where the saints had often trod
As the Royal Marine waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God,

"Step forward now, you Royal Marine,
You've borne your burdens true,
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
There is a space for you!”

(Author - unknown)

Miss me - but Let Me Go

When I come to the end of the road

And the sun has set for me,

I want no rites in a gloom filled room,

Why cry for a soul set free.

Miss me a little – but not too long

And not with your head bowed low,

Remember the love that we once shared

Miss me – but let me go

For this is a journey we all must take.

And each must go alone;

It’s all part of the master’s plan

A step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick of heart

Go to the friends we know

And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds.

Miss me – but let me go.

(author unknown)

Other Poems and verses gratefully received from other serving and ex Royal Marines

O Holy Spirit grant we pray,
To Royal Marines both night and day,
The courage, honour, strength and skill,
Their land to to serve, their law fulfil:
Be thou their shield for evermore
From every peril to the Corps.

(Replaces 3rd verse of 'Those in peril...')

O Lord I have not been to careful
In the things that I have said and done
I’ve boasted too much on my nights on the spree
And the games of pontoon that I’ve won

But I have always done my duty
Wherever I have been
Ashore with the gallant commandoes
Or out with the fleet at sea

But when Gabriel blows his last trumpet
And the reaper his harvest doth gleen
O Lord if I’ve been a sinner
Well at least I was a Marine

Once a Marine, Always a Marine

Per Mare Per Terram

(Author Unknown)

Green were there Berets

Green were their berets
as they stalked the hedgerows
staunch were their young hearts
with bravery filled
pure was their faith
their strength and devotion
as they moved in silence
through the fire that killed

Who were these young men
of unbridled courage
who seemed to find joy
in their flirtation with death
onward still onward
forever still onward
till all of their conquests
with honour
possessed

Many were their dead
their wounded, their dying
the guns smothered cries
of those who fell
sweet was the smell
of the red cloying liquid
as they challenged the might
of the keepers of hell

A crown of victory
to death was given
as friend and foe
the bugle obeyed
forever to haunt the fields and the hedgerows
the ghosts and the spirits
of the Commando's who stayed

Green were their berets
now tattered and bloodstained
immortal---- unvanquished
eyes bright with their fame
redeem them dear lord
for all of their bravery
those Royal Marine Commando's
for this was their name

'Soldier an' Sailor too' by Rudyard Kipling

AS I was spittin’ into the Ditch aboard o’ the Crocodile,
I seed a man on a man-o’-war got up in the Reg’lars’ style.
’E was scrapin’ the paint from off of ’er plates, an’ I sez to ’im, “’Oo are you?”
Sez ’e, “I’m a Jolly—’Er Majesty’s Jolly—soldier an’ sailor too!”
Now ’is work begins by Gawd knows when, and ’is work is never through;
’E isn’t one o’ the reg’lar Line, nor ’e isn’t one of the crew.
’E’s a kind of a giddy harumfrodite—soldier an’ sailor too!

An’ after I met ’im all over the world, a-doin’ all kinds of things,
Like landin’ ’isself with a Gatlin’ gun to talk to them ’eathen kings;
’E sleeps in an ’ammick instead of a cot, an’ ’e drills with the deck on a slew,
An’ ’e sweats like a Jolly—’Er Majesty’s Jolly—soldier an’ sailor too!
For there isn’t a job on the top o’ the earth the beggar don’t know, nor do—
You can leave ’im at night on a bald man’s ’ead, to paddle ’is own canoe—
’E’s a sort of a bloomin’ cosmopolouse—soldier an’ sailor too.

We’ve fought ’em in trooper, we’ve fought ’em in dock, and drunk with ’em in betweens,
When they called us the seasick scull’ry-maids, an’ we called ’em the Ass Marines;
But, when we was down for a double fatigue, from Woolwich to Bernardmyo,
We sent for the Jollies—’Er Majesty’s Jollies—soldier an’ sailor too!
They think for ’emselves, an’ they steal for ’emselves, and they never ask what’s to do,
But they’re camped an’ fed an’ they’re up an’ fed before our bugle’s blew.
Ho! they ain’t no limpin’ procrastitutes—soldier an’ sailor too.

You may say we are fond of an ’arness-cut, or ’ootin’ in barrick-yards,
Or startin’ a Board School mutiny along o’ the Onion Guards; 1
But once in a while we can finish in style for the ends of the earth to view,
The same as the Jollies—’Er Majesty’s Jollies—soldier an’ sailor too!
They come of our lot, they was brothers to us; they was beggars we’d met an’ knew;
Yes, barrin’ an inch in the chest an’ the arm, they was doubles o’ me an’ you;
For they weren’t no special chrysanthemums—soldier an’ sailor too!

To take your chance in the thick of a rush, with firing all about,
Is nothing so bad when you’ve cover to ’and, an’ leave an’ likin’ to shout;
But to stand an’ be still to the Birken’ead drill is a damn tough bullet to chew,
An’ they done it, the Jollies—’Er Majesty’s Jollies—soldier an’ sailor too!
Their work was done when it ’adn’t begun; they was younger nor me an’ you;
Their choice it was plain between drownin’ in ’eaps an’ bein’ mopped by the screw,
So they stood an’ was still to the Birken’ead drill,2 soldier an’ sailor too!

We’re most of us liars, we’re ’arf of us thieves, an’ the rest are as rank as can be,
But once in a while we can finish in style (which I ’ope it won’t ’appen to me).
But it makes you think better o’ you an’ your friends, an’ the work you may ’ave to do,
When you think o’ the sinkin’ Victorier’s 3 Jollies—soldier an’ sailor too!
Now there isn’t no room for to say ye don’t know—they ’ave proved it plain and true—
That whether it’s Widow, or whether it’s ship, Victorier’s work is to do,
An’ they done it, the Jollies—’Er Majesty’s Jollies—soldier an’ sailor too!