The officer saw a sailor weaving down the sidewalk and followed him. Every time he came to a lamp post, the drunk who was obviously 'three sheets in the wind' (as the old naval phrase goes), staggered slowly around it in the street and then back to the sidewalk.
"You better come with me, bud," said the officer, tapping him on the shoulder. "You're not fit to navigate."
"I'm awright," said the gob, "I'm steering the ship right on the course. It's those posts. They come whizzing by. But I always throw the ship out of the way, don't I?"