John Paul Masters
In a far off Northern city
On an Island all alone
Stood a U.S. Naval prison
Built of Iron, Brick and stone
The convicts…they were plenty
Some 2000 men or more
Doing time in Portsmouth
Some had never done time before
They were seated around the table
To partake of the Christmas fare
When in stepped Old Tom Osborn
and loudly shouted down the hall
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU CONVICTS
The convicts shouted “BALLS”
This made Old Tom Osborn angry
and he swore by all the gods
You’ll get no Christmas dinner
you filthy bunch of gobs
Piped old Ball-eyed Mastice
With a voice as bold as brass
We don’t want your Christmas dinner
You can stick it up your ______ (elbow)
