Sting: When the Last Ship Sails Page #2

And the bairns'll wave

their Union Jacks all day

Ah, 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 your 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 launching,

you worry what's ahead

And that worry never leaves ye,

it keeps on nagging in your head

And so ye pray to God for orders,

but ye'll worry till you're dead

Until they bury your remains

in the blacksmith's shed

And the only life you've known

is in the shipyard. Come on!

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 the yard gets sold

For the only life we've

known is in the shipyard

Aye, in the shipyard.

Come on, Tom!

Me name is Tommy Thompson,

I'm shop steward for the Union

- Me dream is proletarian revolution

- Go on, Tom!

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 the shipyard

So, it's a one-day stoppage

or an overtime ban

Or a work to rule for

the Five Year Plan

Till the means of production

are safely in our hands

And we become the rightful

owners of the shipyard

I'm not saying it won't be hard

if the boss hands us me cards

And 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 your cuts and wounds I've bound.

- Come on, Peg!

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 yous all an aspirin

while you're coughing up your lungs

But it's all you'll ever

get here in this shipyard.

- Adrian Sanderson! - Just putting

me hat on. Be patient, will you?

You're on, kid!

Ah, me name is Adrian Sanderson,

and the river is me trade

But it's intellectual discourse

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