Shipyard

Sting - Shipyard Lyrics

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• published: 25 Oct 2016
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[Lyrics Sting - Shipyard] Ah, me name is Jackie White and I'm foreman of the yard, And ye don't mess with Jackie on this quayside. Why I'm as hard as iron plate, woe betide ye if yer late, When we have to push the boat out on a spring tide. Now ye could die and hope for Heaven, but ye'd need to work your shift, And I'd expect ye's all to back us to the hilt. And if St. Peter at his gate were to ask ye why yer late, Why you'd tell him that ye had to get a ship built. We built battleships and cruisers for Her Majesty the Queen, Super tankers for Onassis, and all the classes in between, We built the greatest shipping tonnage that the world has ever seen, And the only life we've known is in the shipyard. All the platers and the welders, and the boiler making crews, When they see that bugger finished on the slipway, All the hardship's soon forgot and we'll cheer as like as not, And the bairns'll wave their Union Jacks all day. It's a patriotic scene, all that's missing is the Queen, But she said she couldn't make it of a Tuesday. Then something wells up here inside, and you could take it in yer stride, But you wonder if you'll see another payday. For there's a mixture of emotions, hatred, gratitude and pride, And you hate yourself for crying but it's difficult to hide, For there's a sadness in the leavin' and ye worry what's ahead, And that worry never leaves ye, keeps on nagging in yer head, And so ye pray to God for orders, but ye'll worry till yer dead… Until they bury your remains in the blacksmith's shed, And the only life ye've known is in the shipyard. Steel in the stockyard, Iron in the soul, We'll conjure up a ship where there used to be a hole. And I don't know what we'll do if this yard gets sold, For the only life we've known is in the shipyard. [Additional lyrics not included on the track] My name is Adrian Sanderson and riveting's me trade, But it's intellectual discourse I'm known better for, And I may forego English grammar when I'm injured with a hammer, But I've a preference for the deference of a metaphor. I've read the Odyssey by Homer and the Iliad as well, I read Tacitus and Pliny and the Scarlet Pimpernel, I put a night shift in with Dante on his journey into Hell, And that's what we'll all be facing if the yard's put up to sell, For the only life ye've known is in the shipyard. Now what about those Trojan wars? And the troubles that they caused? When they sailed off on that summer's afternoon? [Tommy Thompson] Aye, the ship they had was crap and they'd lost the effin' map, When they tried to get their selves back to the toon. [Adrian Sanderson] There's a lesson in these tales although they happened ages past, Just like in Spartacus that film by Stanley Kubrick. First it's tragedy then farce then they'll kick you in the arse, When you tempt the gods with arrogance and hubris. Well it's obvious I'm gifted with the rhymin' and the meter, And hereabouts I'm thought of highly as a bard. If I wasn't shooting rivets I'd be famous in me time, All those literary circles I could dazzle with me rhyme, And I never lacked ambition you could say it was a crime, And rivets may be riveting but sonnets are sublime, But the only life I've known is in the shipyard. Steel in the stockyard, Iron in the soul, We'll conjure up a ship where there used to be a hole. But we don't know what we'll do if the yard gets sold, For the only life we've known is in the shipyard. Ah, me name is Tommy Thompson, I'm shop steward for the Union, Me dream is proletarian revolution, Comrades, brothers, fellow travellers and others, Class struggle is the means of dialectic evolution. Das Kapital's me bible and the ruling class are liable, And quoting Marx and Engels, it's entirely justifiable, If the workers' revolution here is ever to be viable, And we become the rightful owners of this shipyard. So it's a one-day stoppage, or an overtime ban, Or a work to rule for the Five Year Plan. 'Til the means of production are safely in our hands, And we become the rightful owners of this shipyard. I'm not saying it won't be hard if the boss hands us me cards, When they try to close us down like other shipyards. And if industrial action only helps the competition, As I've heard the bosses bleating from their usual position, And I stand accused of anarchy, disruption and sedition, Well ye'll never knock us down, you reactionary clowns! When it's time for occupation of the shipyard. My name is Peggy White, And I've nursed ye through your injuries and yer cuts and wounds I've bound. Busted arms, and busted heads, Broken backs and broken legs, I'd sooner put ye in a splint than have them put ye in the ground. And the fumes from all the welding where the poison air is hung, And the toxic radiation that's been blackening your tongue, I could give you's all an aspirin while you'