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Ah, me name is Jackie White and I'm foreman of the yard, |
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And ye don't mess with Jackie on this quayside. |
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Why I'm as hard as iron plate, woe betide ye if yr late, |
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When we have to push the boat out on a spring tide. |
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Now ye could die and hope for Heaven, but ye'd need to work your shift, |
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And I'd expect ye's all to back us to the hilt. |
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And if St. Peter at his gate were to ask ye why yr late, |
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Why you'd tell him that ye had to get a ship built. |
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We built battleships and cruisers for Her Majesty the Queen, |
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Super tankers for Onassis, and all the classes in between, |
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We built the greatest shipping tonnage that the world has ever seen, |
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And the only life we've known is in the shipyard. |
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All the platers and the welders, and the boiler making crews, |
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When they see that bugger finished on the slipway, |
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All the hardship's soon forgot and we'll cheer as like as not, |
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And the bairns'll wave their Union Jacks all day. |
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It's a patriotic scene, all that's missing is the Queen, |
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But she said she couldn't make it of a Tuesday. |
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Then something wells up here inside, and you could take it in yr stride, |
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But you wonder if you'll see another payday. |
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For there's a mixture of emotions, hatred, gratitude and pride, |
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And you hate yourself for crying but it's difficult to hide, |
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For there's a sadness in the leavin' and ye worry what's ahead, |
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And that worry never leaves ye, keeps on nagging in yr head, |
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And so ye pray to God for orders, but ye'll worry till yr dead... |
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Until they bury your remains in the blacksmith's shed, |
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And the only life ye've known is in the shipyard. |
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Steel in the stockyard, |
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Iron in the soul, |
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We'll conjure up a ship where there used to be a hole. |
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And I don't know what we'll do if this yard gets sold, |
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For the only life we've known is in the shipyard. |
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[Additional lyrics not included on the track] |
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My name is Adrian Sanderson and riveting's me trade, |
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But it's intellectual discourse I'm known better for, |
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And I may forego English grammar when I'm injured with a hammer, |
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But I've a preference for the deference of a metaphor. |
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I've read the Odyssey by Homer and the Iliad as well, |
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I read Tacitus and Pliny and the Scarlet Pimpernel, |
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I put a night shift in with Dante on his journey into Hell, |
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And that's what we'll all be facing if the yard's put up to sell, |
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For the only life ye've known is in the shipyard. |
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Now what about those Trojan wars? And the troubles that they caused? |
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When they sailed off on that summer's afternoon? |
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Tommy Thompson |
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Aye, the ship they had was crap and they'd lost the effin' map, |
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When they tried to get their selves back to the toon. |
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Adrian Sanderson |
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There's a lesson in these tales although they happened ages past, |
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Just like in "Spartacus" that film by Stanley Kubrick. |
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First it's tragedy then farce then they'll kick you in the arse, |
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When you tempt the gods with arrogance and hubris. |
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Well it's obvious I'm gifted with the rhymin' and the meter, |
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And hereabouts I'm thought of highly as a bard. |
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If I wasn't shooting rivets I'd be famous in me time, |
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All those literary circles I could dazzle with me rhyme, |
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And I never lacked ambition you could say it was a crime, |
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And rivets may be riveting but sonnets are sublime, |
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But the only life I've known is in the shipyard. |
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Steel in the stockyard, |
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Iron in the soul, |
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We'll conjure up a ship where there used to be a hole. |
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But we don't know what we'll do if the yard gets sold, |
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For the only life we've known is in the shipyard. |
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Ah, me name is Tommy Thompson, I'm shop steward for the Union, |
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Me dream is proletarian revolution, |
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Comrades, brothers, fellow travellers and others, |
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Class struggle is the means of dialectic evolution. |
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Das Kapital's me bible and the ruling class are liable, |
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And quoting Marx and Engels, it's entirely justifiable, |
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If the workers' revolution here is ever to be viable, |
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And we become the rightful owners of this shipyard. |
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So it's a one-day stoppage, or an overtime ban, |
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Or a work to rule for the Five Year Plan. |
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'Til the means of production are safely in our hands, |
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And we become the rightful owners of this shipyard. |
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I'm not saying it won't be hard if the boss hands us me cards, |
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When they try to close us down like other shipyards. |
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And if industrial action only helps the competition, |
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As I've heard the bosses bleating from their usual position, |
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And I stand accused of anarchy, disruption and sedition, |
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Well ye'll never knock us down, you reactionary clowns! |
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When it's time for occupation of the shipyard. |
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My name is Peggy White, |
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And I've nursed ye through your injuries and yr cuts and wounds I've bound. |
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Busted arms, and busted heads, |
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Broken backs and broken legs, |
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I'd sooner put ye in a splint than have them put ye in the ground. |
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And the fumes from all the welding where the poison air is hung, |
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And the toxic radiation that's been blackening your tongue, |
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I could give you's all an aspirin while you're coughing up your lungs, |
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But it's all you'll ever get here in this shipyard. |
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[Additional lyrics not included on the track] |
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Me name is Arthur Cook, I'm the union superintendent, |
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Where I represent the interests of ye's all. |
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And I listen to you men as you talk about the future, |
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But the truth is that we're heading for a God almighty fall. |
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But it's clear that intervention's not the government's intention, |
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'Cos they've got no need for ships, now have I got your full attention? |
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While the closing of the yard may be beyond your comprehension, |
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I'm the one who sees the writin' on the shipyard wall. |
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I've begged and I've pleaded at every meeting that we've held, |
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That we limit our demands to this reality, |
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It's like two different metals in a join ye cannot weld, |
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And there's nothing to be gained from this dream of solidarity. |
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There's nowt for us to bargain with when the industry's at sea, |
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It must be obvious to you as it's obvious to me, |
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And my advice to all of you's is to take redundancy, |
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And accept that there's no future in this shipyard. |
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Steel in the stockyard, |
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Iron in the soul, |
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We'll conjure up a ship where there used to be a hole. |
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But I don't know what we'll do if the yard gets sold, |
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For the only life we've known is in the shipyard. |
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Ah, me name is Davy Harrison, I like a drink or two, |
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You could ask me when it started but I haven't got a clue. |
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I'm never sad or miserable I'm never ever blue, |
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And I'll still be up tomorrow for the shipyard. |
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I drink meself into a stupor and I wake up with two heeds, |
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And then the missus starts complainin' about all me drunken deeds, |
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Like when I got the train to Sunderland but found meself in Leeds, |
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And I had to get up early for the shipyard. |
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I once gave up the drinking, was it 1963? |
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But it seems as if sobriety was not the thing for me, |
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It was the worst three hours I ever hope to see... |
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Steel in the stockyard, |
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Iron in the soul, |
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We'll conjure up a ship where there used to be a hole. |
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And the ship sets sail and the tale gets told, |
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And the only life I've known is in the shipyard. |
|
Steel in the stockyard, |
|
Iron in the soul, |
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We'll get the bastard finished, and we'll end up on the dole. |
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And we don't know what we'll do if the yard gets sold, |
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The only life we've ever known is in the shipyard. |
