Sting: When the Last Ship Sails

This programme contains some strong language.

I wrote this music and I wrote these songs to accompany a play.

A play about my hometown,

which is a shipyard town in the North of England.

CHEERING

When I think of the environment I was raised in,

these streets and this ship,

such a huge part of our identity, part of who we were...

..and...

I am fiercely proud of it.

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

# It's all there in my gospels

# The Magdalene girl comes to pay her respects

# But her mind is awhirl when she finds the tomb empty

# The stone had been rolled

# Not a sign of a corpse in the dark and the cold

# When she reaches the door, sees an unholy sight

# There's this solitary figure in a halo of light

# He just carries on floating past Calvary Hill

# In an almighty hurry Aye, but she might catch him still

# Tell me where are ye going, Lord, and why in such haste?

# Now don't hinder me, woman I've no time to waste

# For they're launching a boat on the morrow at noon

# And I have to be there before daybreak

# Oh, I cannae be missing The lads'll expect me

# Why else would the good Lord himself resurrect me

# For nothing will stop me

# I have to prevail

# Through the teeth of this tempest in the mouth of a gale

# May the angels protect me if all else should fail

# When the last ship sails

# Oh, the roar of the chains and the cracking of timbers

# The noise at the end of the world in your ears

# As a mountain of steel makes its way to the sea

# And the last ship sails

# It's that strange kind of beauty It's cold and austere

# And whatever it was that ye've done to be here

# It's the sum of your hopes, your despairs and your fears

# When the last ship sails

# Whoa the first to arrive saw these signs in the east

# Like that strange moving finger at Balthazar's Feast

# Where they asked the advice of some wandering priest

# And the sad ghosts of men whom they'd thought long deceased

# And whatever got said they'd be counted at least

# When the last ship sails

# Oh, the roar of the chains and the cracking of timbers

# The noise at the end of the world in your ears

# As a mountain of steel makes its way to the sea

# And the last ship sails

# And whatever you'd promised Whatever you've done

# And whatever the station in life you've become

# In the name of the Father In the name of the Son

# And whatever the weave of this life that you've spun

# On the Earth or in Heaven or under the sun

# When the last ship sails

# Oh, the roar of the chains and the cracking of timbers

# The noise at the end of the world in your ears

# As a mountain of steel makes its way to the sea

# And the last ship sails. #

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Welcome, everybody.

I'm delighted to be here because I'm...I'm presenting some

brand-new songs for the first time in almost a decade.

All of these songs you'll hear tonight, or most of them, anyway,

have been inspired by the writing of a play.

Now, you're not going to see the play tonight.

Although one of our leading men is right here by me - Mr Jimmy Nail.

CHEERING

What you're going to hear... what you're going to hear is

the raw material from which this play is being carved,

or constructed, or pieced together.

That's not a collage, it's the picture of my street,

the street I was born and raised in,

and when I was old enough to walk out the front door,

I turned south towards the river, and that's what I'd see.

This mighty ship at the end the street, blotting out the sky

and the sun for most... most of the year.

It was quite a sight.

But it was a surreal, industrial landscape,

and every morning I'd watch thousands of men walk to work,

down that hill, to work on the ships.

I'd watch them come back at night.

I wondered if that was my destiny.

I didn't want it. I was frightened of the shipyard.

It was noisy and dangerous.

Those men, though, were tough and proud.

They worked in terrible conditions,

but were fiercely proud of the ships they built.

They built the largest ships ever constructed on Planet Earth,

right at the end of my street.

So this play is about my community, the community I come from.

And this next song, which is

probably the first that I wrote in the series,

some of that community present themselves.

They talk about who they are, what they do.

Their hopes, their passions, their fears for the future.

Mr Nail, would you take the floor?

Yes.

# Oh my name is Jackie White and I'm the 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 you're 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 yous all to back me to the hilt

# And if St Peter at his gate were to ask ye why you're late

# Why you'd tell him that ye had to get a ship built

# We've 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

# But the only life we've known is in the shipyard... #

Come on, boys!

# 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

# All the platers and the welders and the boiler-making crews

# When they see that beggar finished on the slipway, oh!

# All the hardship's soon forgot and we'll cheer as like as not

# 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, my name is Adrian Sanderson and the river is me trade

# But it's intellectual discourse I'm known better for

# I may forego English grammar when I'm injured by the 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've read Tacitus and Pliny

# Aye, aye and the Scarlet Pimpernel

# I've spent a night shift down with Dante on his journey into Hell

# And that's what we'll all be facing

# If this yard's put up to sell

# For the only life we've known is in the shipyard... #

-Shall I go on?

-Go on.

Now about those Trojan wars and the troubles that they caused

-When they sailed off on that summer's afternoon?

-Yes.

# Because the ship they had was crap and they lost their bloody map

# When they tried to get themselves back to the tomb

# There's a lesson in these tales although they happened ages past

# Just like Spartacus that film by Stanley Kubricks

# First it's tragedy then farce Then they'll kick you up the arse

# When you tempt the gods with arrogance and hubris

# Well, it's obvious I'm gifted with the rhyming and the meter

# And hereabouts I'm thought of highly as a bard!

As a bard.

# And if I wasn't shooting rivets I'd be famous in me time

# All those literary circles I could dazzle with me rhyme

# I've never lacked ambition

# You can say it was a crime

# For rivets may be riveting But sonnets are sublime

# And the only life we've known is in the shipyard... #

Come on, lads!

# 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 this yard gets sold

# For the only life we've known is in the shipyard... #

Oh here he comes, Davy Harrison, the town drunk!

Are you all right, Davy?

Davy!

# Oh, me name is Davy Harrison I like a drink or two

# You could ask me when it started and I haven't got a clue

# I'm ever never miserable I'm never ever blue

# And I'll still be up tomorrow for the shipyard

# I drink meself into a stupor and I wake up with two heeds

# And then the missus starts complainin'

# About all me drunken deeds

# Like when I got the train to Sunderland

# But found meself in Leeds... #

Leeds!

# And I had to get up early for the shipyards

# You know I once gave up the drinking

# It was 1963

# But it seems as if sobriety was not the thing for me

# It was the worst three hours I ever hope to see

# Steel in the stockyard Iron in the soul

# We'll conjure up a ship where there used to be a hole

# And the ship sets sail and the tale gets told

# And the only life we've known is in the shipyard

# Steel in the stockyard Iron in the soul

# We'll get the bastard finished and we'll end up on the dole

# And we don't know what we'll do if the yard gets sold

# The only life we've ever known is in the shipyard. #

APPLAUSE

So...so without giving too much of the play away,

because I want you to come out and see it eventually, um...

It does have a love story,

and our leading man is a man called Gideon.

He's been away from this town for 14 years.

He went away to sea.

He left under a bit of a cloud.

He doesn't like the place, but he's back because his dad's died,

and he needs to sort some things out,

but also some other ghosts he needs to lay,

some unfinished business.

This is Gideon's song.

# Oh, I know I've come home for a reason

# But that reason escapes me now

# The engine's ceased and the wind from the east

# Cleared the fog off the starboard bow

# Well, here's the mouth of the river that spawned me

# I feel like a stranger here

# How long has it been

# Well, I haven't been seen in these parts for 14 years

# Yes, these are the streets where I once played

# Where some debt of the soul was left unpaid

# And the place the old man's bones are laid

# And coming home

# Coming home's not easy

# I wonder if she still lives round here

# That girl I've been missing these 14 years

# She's probably married with kids of her own by now

# By now. #

# This town, this stain on the sunrise

# Disguised in the mist this morning

# It's 8am

# A seagull shouts a sailor's warning

# This sky, this bend in the river

# Slows down and delivers me

# The tide rolls back

# And all my memories fade to black

# And yet, and yet

# I'm back

# This town has a strange magnetic pull

# Like a homing signal in your skull

# And you sail by the stars of the hemisphere

# Wondering how in the hell did you end up here?

# It's like an underground river, or a hidden stream

# That flows through your head and haunts your dreams

# And you stuffed those dreams in this canvas sack

# And there's nothing round here that the wide world lacks

# And yet, and yet

# You're back

# Some nights I'd lie on the deck and I'd stare

# At the turning of the stars

# Those constellations hanging up there

# From the cables and the rigging

# I'd wonder if she saw the same

# Or managed to recall my name

# Why would she ever think of me?

# Some boy she loved who fled to sea?

# And why waste time debating

# Whether she'd be waiting

# For the likes of me?

# So you drift into port with the scum of the seas

# To the dance halls and the brothels where you took your ease

# And the ship's left the dock but you're half past caring

# You haven't got a clue whose bed you're sharing

# And your head's like a hammer on a bulkhead door

# And it feels like somebody might have broken your jaw

# And there's bloodstains and glass all over the floor

# And you swear to God you'll drink no more

# And yet, and yet

# In truth, it's too late to find her

# Too late to remind her at some garden gate

# Where a servant tells me I should wait

# And perhaps a door's slammed in my face

# My head must be in outer space

# And yet, and yet

# Before the sun has set

# Before the sea

# There may be something else that's waiting for

# The likes of me

# This town, this stain on the sunrise. #

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

# When August winds are turning

# The fishing boats set out upon the sea

# I watch till they sail out of sight

# The winter follows soon

# I watch them drawn into the night

# Beneath the August moon

# And no-one knows I come here

# Some things I don't share

# I can't explain the reasons why

# It moves me close to tears

# Or something in the season's change

# Will find me wandering here

# And in my public moments

# I hear the things I say but they're not me

# Perhaps I'll know before I die

# Admit that there's a reason why

# I count the boats returning to the sea

# I count the boats returning to the sea

# And in my private moments

# I drop the mask that I've been forced to wear

# But no-one knows this secret me

# Where albeit unconsciously

# I count the boats returning from the sea

# I count the boats returning from the sea

# Ooh, ooh, ooh

# Ooh, ooh, ooh. #

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Thank you.

So, the shipyard will close,

with terrible results for this community.

The men who had such pride, and such dignity, a sense of self,

will be robbed of that.

Robbed of their work, their jobs.

A parish priest decides he needs to do something

about his community, his parish.

He has this wacky, quixotic, even Homeric idea.

He wants the men to occupy their shipyard

and build a ship for themselves.

Eventually, he convinces them

because they realise they have nothing else

and in my dialect they would say,

"What have we got? We've got nowt else",

and this is their song.

-# Good people, give ear to me story

-Steady!

# Pay attention, and none of your lip

# For I've brought you five lads and their daddy

# And their daddy!

# Intending to build yous a ship

# Wallsend is wor habitation

# It's the place we was all born and bred

# And there's nae finer lads in the nation

# And none are more gallantly led... #

One, two, three!

-# What have we got

-But the buzzer in the morning?

-# And what have we got

-But the laying of a keel?

-# And what have we got

-But the cranes above us soaring?

# The commotion and the clamour in the welding of the steel?

-# What have we got

-But the mist upon the river?

-# And what have we got

-But that noise inside the hold?

-# What have we got

-But the arse end of the weather?

# Where we work in horizontal rain and shiver in the cold

# What do we got?

# What do we got?

-# We've got nowt

-We've got nowt else

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# We've got nowt

-We've got nowt else

-# What have we got

-But the singing in the cables?

-# What have we got

-But the ringing in your ears?

-# What have ye got

-But the telling of the fables?

# And the ghosts of all them ships

# That we've been building donkey's years

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

# We've got nowt We've got nowt else

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

# We've got nowt We've got nowt else... #

You're standing for your tea break. You're up to here in shite.

You're dying for a cigarette, you're desperate for a light.

And then the gaffer pulls along with his drop sheet and he reads,

"Tea break's over, gentlemen, now get back on your heids."

What's it say in the papers?

What does it say on the news?

They say we've all gone bloody daft.

Oh, what have we got to lose?

What would I get for murder?

What would I get for life?

What do I get for a capital crime?

What'll I tell me wife?

What do you get for your politics?

What do you get for your vote?

What have you got at the end of the day?

A great big bloody boat!

Aye, you've got to die of something, It's written in your fate!

Ye might as well die next Tuesday, and woe betide you're late.

Come on!

Ah-ah-ah...

-# What have ye got

-All you men what's fit and able?

-# What have ye got

-For the straining in your neck?

-# What have ye got

-When you're laid out on the table?

# And the snapping of a cable when the rigging hits the deck?

-# What have ye got

-But the loyalty of brothers?

-# What have ye got

-But the punching of the clock?

-# What have ye got

-You reactionary clowns!

# Well, ye'll never knock us down, cos we're the union of the dock!

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# We've got nowt

-We've got nowt else

-Hey! # What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# We've got nowt

-We've got nowt else

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# We've got nowt

-We've got nowt else

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

-# What do we got?

-What do we got?

# We've got nowt

We've go-o-ot no-o-o-owt e-e-e-else. #

So, you know, I didn't enter the musical theatre blithely,

thinking it would be easy.

It's not.

The landscape is strewn with bleached corpses on either side.

LAUGHTER

What I hadn't realised is just how precise and exacting a medium it is.

You know. I had a fantastic team of collaborators.

My first collaborator was Brian Yorkey, prize-winning,

Pulitzer-winning...

APPLAUSE

Um, a fantastic director - Joe Mantello...

APPLAUSE

..and um, another prize winning writer, John Logan...

APPLAUSE

..and occasionally they would tell me that...um...

a song I'd written wasn't quite right.

Now, this is novel for me.

LAUGHTER

But you know it's hard for me as my finest couplets are being

thrown in a bin and I'm spluttering my flimsy protests.

But every song in a musical fights for its life, every character

fights for its life, every verse in every song fights for its life.

Every line, every word is scrutinised

with an intensity that's unusual.

Um, the next two songs are a case in point.

I envisaged an older character called Arthur, who's about my age,

who falls in love with a much younger woman.

It's a common thing.

This song is called Practical Arrangement, and it goes like this.

# Am I asking for the moon? Is it really so implausible?

# That you and I could soon come to some kind of arrangement?

# I'm not asking for the moon

# I've always been a realist

# When it's really nothing more

# Than a simple rearrangement

# With one roof above our heads

# A warm house to return to

# We could start with separate beds

# I could sleep alone Or learn to

# I'm not suggesting that we'd find some earthly paradise for ever

# I mean how often does that happen now?

# The answer's probably never

# But if we came to an arrangement

# A practical arrangement

# And you could learn to love me given time

# Well, I like my independence I get by, I'm not greedy

# Do you see yourself as Galahad? Do I really look that needy?

# I brought a child up on my own

# It takes me all my strength to face him

# The father upped and left me

# And I'm not desperate to replace him

# Tell me what kind of catch is a struggling single mother?

# I respect you and I like you

# But I won't accept another empty promise

# When some grey and stormy rain cloud hangs above me

# When I've heard it all 100 times From a man who said he loved me

# But if we came to an arrangement

# A practical arrangement

# Then perhaps I'd learn to love you

# Given time

# I'm not promising the moon I'm not promising a rainbow

# Just a practical solution to a solitary life

# I'd be a father to your boy

# A shoulder you could lean on

# How bad could it be to be my wife?

# With one roof above our heads A warm house to return to

# You wouldn't have to cook for me

# You wouldn't have to learn to

# I'm not suggesting that we find

# Some earthly paradise for ever

# I've no intention of deceiving you

# You're far too clever

# But if we come to an arrangement

# A practical arrangement

# Then perhaps you'd learn to love me

# Given time

# It may not be the romance that you had in mind

# But you could learn to love me

# Given...ti-i-i-ime. #

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

So...so that song was in the play for a while.

And then one Monday morning I turned up for work

and my dramatic collaborators were sitting there at a table.

It looked like an intervention was about to take place.

I said "What's up?"

They said, "Uh, Arthur." "What about him?"

"Practical Arrangement."

"Yes?" "Can't be in the play." I said, "Come on.

"It's a great... I mean, you know."

And I was really thinking, you know, Arthur is me.

He's my age. You know this is, this is me!

I said, "Well why? Wh-what's.. what's the reason?"

They said, "Well, as soon as he opens his mouth,

"he's clearly lost the girl. He's not going to get this girl.

"We need the rival to Gideon to be viable.

"To be young, to be virile."

So...

LAUGHTER

I know, I know.

And it took me a good month of struggling with this issue

and then one day I woke up and said, "You know.

"You put yourself in the way. Get out of the way.

"Write a song for this character.

"This young, virile character - even though you don't like him.

"Write a song for him." So I came up with this...

# There's a house on the hill that's come up for sale

# It's a place I've known since I was a lad

# And it needs a lick of paint and a hammer and a nail

# But it's part of a boyhood dream I've always had

# I'd climb up the hill with the Evening News

# I'd been sent from the town to deliver

# And I'd stand in the porch and gaze at the views

# Till my eyes were bruised by the sunset's glow on the river

# I'd imagine a girl who would share my life

# As dreamers'll tend to do

# And the face I always conjured up

# Was always no-one else but you

# What say you, Meg?

# What's this story's ending?

# I want you, Meg,

# By my side

# What's the use, Meg

# To gaze at a view on your own

# For richer, for poorer In sickness and health

# I will see this through, Meg,

# No chance of this ending

# Such a view, Meg

# As we gaze from the house on the hill

# To love and to cherish To have and to hold

# I'm a hard man to beat If I may be so bold

# And I promise it all by the sweat of my brow

# Tell me what say you, Meg, now?

# What say you, Meg?

# How's this story shaping?

# I want you, Meg

# As we gaze from the house on the hill

# For richer, for poorer In sickness and health

# I'd be hard to replace If I say so myself

# And I promise it all By the sweat of my brow

# Tell me what say you, Meg, now? #

So, another theme in our play

is the perennial struggle between fathers and sons.

Something I know a little bit about.

You know, sometimes a father will not appreciate

the scope of a son's ambition, and a son will not realise that a father

cares for him when he thinks is being - just being controlled in...

In my community there's a phrase called dead man's boots.

Dead man's boots really indicates how difficult it is to get a job.

Uh, you'd only get a job if someone died,

so they called it dead man's boots.

And when your father gets you a job in the shipyard and you say no...

That's trouble.

# You said, you see these work boots in my hands

# They probably fit you now, my son

# Take them, they're a gift from me Why don't you try them on?

# It would do your old man good

# To see you walking in these boots one day

# And take your place among the men who work upon the slipway

# These dead man's boots Though they're old and curled

# When a feller needs a job And a place in the world

# When it's time for a man to put down roots

# And walk to the river in his old man's boots

# He was dying, son, and asking that you do one final thing, you see?

# You were barely but a sapling And you thought you were a tree

# If you need a seed to prosper you must first put down some roots

# He wanted you to settle in your old man's boots

# These dead man's boots know their way down the hill

# They could walk there themselves and they probably will

# There's a place for you there to sink your roots

# And take a walk down the river in your old man's boots

# I said, Why the hell would I do that?

# Why would I agree?

# When his hand was all that I'd received as far as I remember

# It's not as if he'd spoiled me

# With his kindness up to then, you see

# I'd a plan of me own and I'd quit this place

# When I came of age September

# These dead man's boots know their way down the hill

# They can walk there themselves and they probably will

# I'd plenty of choices Plenty other routes

# And he'd never see me walking in these dead man's boots

# What was it made him think

# I'd be happy ending up like him?

# When he'd hardly got two ha'pennies left

# Or a broken pot to piss in

# He wanted this same thing for me, was that his final wish? #

So what the hell are you going to do, lad?

I said, "Anything but this!"

# These dead man's boots Know their way down the hill

# They can walk there themselves And they probably will

# But they won't walk with me Cos I'm off the other way

# I've had it up to here I'm going to have my say

# When all ye've got left is that cross on the wall

# I want nothing from you I want nothing at all

# Not a pension, nor a pittance When your whole life is through

# Get this through your head I'm nothing like you

# I'm done with all the arguments There'll be no more dispute

# And you'll die before you see me in your dead man's boots. #

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Most of the people on the stage come from the North East of England.

Um, and we have five brothers here from my neck of the woods.

They're called the Wilson Family.

Um, I actually, actually thought I was hiring the Beach Boys,

but I was...

Pretty soon I figured they weren't.

They're going to sing a song which was a poem by Rudyard Kipling

written in 1911, called Big Steamers. And the music

was by Peter Bellamy, and this is the Wilson Family.

APPLAUSE

# Oh, where are you going to All you big steamers?

# With England's own coal Up and down the salt seas?

# We are going to fetch you Your bread and your butter

# Your beef, pork, and mutton, eggs, apples and cheese

# And where will you fetch it from All you big steamers?

# And where shall I write you When you are away?

# We'll fetch it from Melbourne, Quebec and Vancouver

# Address us at Hobart, Hong Kong and Bombay

# But if anything happened to all you big steamers

# Suppose you were wrecked up and down the salt sea?

# And you'd have no coffee or bacon for breakfast

# And you'd have no muffins or toast for your tea

# Then I'll pray for fine weather for all you big steamers

# With little blue billows and breezes so soft

# Oh, billows and breezes don't bother big steamers

# We're iron below and steel rigging aloft

# Then I'll build a new lighthouse for all you big steamers

# With plenty wise pilots for to pilot you through

# Oh, the Channel's as bright as a ballroom already

# And pilots are thicker than pilchards at Looe

# Then what can I do for you all you big steamers?

# Oh, what can I do for your comfort and good?

# Send out your big warships to watch your big waters

# That no-one may stop us from bringing you food

# For the bread that you eat and the biscuits you nibble

# The sweets that you suck and the joints that you carve

# They are brought to you daily by all us big steamers

# And if any one hinders our coming You will sta-a-a-arve! #

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

That's the Wilson Family.

This next song concerns the mild hazing that would go on

when an apprentice had his first day at the shipyard.

You'd be sent for some spurious nonexistent item

like a left-handed screwdriver,

a glass hammer or you might be sent for a long wait.

In this case our hapless apprentice is going to be

played by Jimmy.

He does hapless very well.

He's going to be sent for a brace, that's two, a brace of sky hooks.

Presumably something that you hook onto the sky.

He's going to be sent for a packet of nail holes

and finally two cans of tartan paint. Thank you.

Oh, and I'm going to make my debut on the spoons in New York City.

I almost forgot.

# Me first day in the shipyard The gaffer says to me

# I want ye to go to the store, lad And get a few things, do you see?

# Now here's a list Can you read, lad?

# Can you read it back to me?

# And me and the boys'll listen while we're having our morning tea

# Now reading was me pride When I left school at 14

# There wouldn't be no problem here I'd show them I was keen

# But when I starts to reading, They just couldn't hold their mirth

# Splitting their sides and spluttering

# Like they was giving birth

# First off a brace of sky hooks And a packet of nail holes neat

# And then three cans of tartan paint, and that's me task complete

# The gaffer swipes me on the heid And sends me on me way

# He says, don't come back empty-handed or I'll have to dock your pay

# So he gets to the store all nervous

# And the quartermaster's there

# He pulls the list out of his pocket

# And he starts to read all square

# Well, he hadn't barely finished When the storeman's face turns red

# He gives him such an evil look He thought he'd soon be dead!

# First off a brace of sky hooks And a packet of nail holes neat

# And then three cans of tartan paint, and that's me task complete

# The storeman swipes me on the heid And sends me on me way

# With a kick in the arse for good measure, and such was my first day... #

On the violin, Kathryn Tickell, thank you.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

AUDIENCE CLAP ALONG

It's Julian Sutton on the melodeon, please.

APPLAUSE

# So, I get back home that evening and me mother says to me

-IN HIGH VOICE:

-# How was it, son? How was your day?

# Sit down and have some tea!

# I told her of the list I'd read and the trouble I was in

# I couldn't go back tomorrow Else the gaffer'd have me skinned

# First off a brace of sky hooks and a packet of nail holes neat

# And then three cans of tartan paint, and that's me task complete

# Me mother swipes me on the heid and sends me on me way

# With a kick in the arse for me efforts, and such was my first day

# First off a brace of sky hooks and a packet of nail holes neat

# And then three cans of tartan paint, and that's me task complete

# Me mother swipes me on the heid and sends me on me way

# With a kick in the arse for me efforts,

# And such was my first da-a-a-a-a-a-a-ay. #

It was a doozy!

So, I have a very good friend that I've known for many years.

Mr Billy Connolly, the actor and comedian.

Before he was a famous actor and comedian

he worked in the shipyards as a welder in Glasgow, in Scotland

and he told me some stuff about welders that I found very amusing.

He said all welders are crazy.

They're crazy because of the welding fumes

that they have to ingest for eight-hour shifts.

Also, they're all practical jokers. You should never let

a welder get behind you or he'll weld your heels,

the steel toecaps to the deck and you'll fall over.

The other thing about welders is all of them sing.

All of them.

Because in the...

welder's helmet there's a natural echo chamber.

So they all think they're Elvis Presley. They sing all day.

So this idea really tickled me and I wrote this next song.

It's called Jock The Singing Welder.

# Any shipyard man can sing when he works upon the hull

# Amongst the noise and the clamour that he all but disregards

# So he'll sing to himself and no-one pays him any mind

# He's just another crazy welder in the shipyards

# But inside this welder's helmet If you'll let me demonstrate

# When the mask is in position and the fumes accumulate

# There's the finest echo chamber With a sound that can't be beat

# Where I'm the king of rock'n'roll And the world is at me feet

# And it may not sound like much to all them jokers on the squad

# But inside of here I'm singing With the voice of fuckin' God

# I'm Jock the singing welder, Heavy metal, rock'n'roll

# Jazz blues, roots reggae, country, rockabilly, soul

# When I'm singing Well, you'd best lock up

# Your daughters and your mothers

# I'm Gene Vincent, Eddie Cochrane, I'm the missing Everly Brother

# I'm Jock the singing welder I'm heading for the heights

# I'm Jock the singing welder and the Acetylene Lights

# Well, I'm more than just a welder And I'm telling you my name

# And one day you'll see it blazoned In the rockin' hall of fame

# I've got these songs in my head I've got this dancing in my bones

# I'm Roy Orbison, Elvis Presley, I'm Tom fuckin' Jones

# I'm Jock the singing welder I'm heading for the heights

# I'm Jock the singing welder And the Acetylene lights... #

CHEERING AND WHISTLING

# Uh-huh-huh

# Uh-huh-huh

# Uh-huh-huh

# Uh-huh-huh

# Uh-huh-huh

# Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo

# Uh-huh-huh

# Uh-huh-huh

# Uh-huh-huh

# Uh-huh-huh

# Uh-huh-huh

# Prometheus, he stole the fire And he brought it down to Earth

# It was a prehistoric welder Who figured out what it was worth

# They call it holy metallurgy and I want it to be clear

# That no man puts asunder what I've joined together here

# I'm Jock the singing welder In the belly of the ship

# I've got my shaky leg I got my quivering lip

# I'm Jock the singing welder I just haven't got a choice

# Cos I'm singing all day At the top of my voice

# I'm Jock the singing welder And the Acetylene lights

# There's an empty throne waiting every Saturday night

# There'll be no more mistaking Where I've set my sights

# Cos I ain't no pretender Cos it's mine by rights

# I'm Jock the Singing Welder and the Acetylene Light

# Jock the Singing Welder and the Acetylene Light

# Jock the Singing Welder and the Acetylene Light

# Jock the Singing Welder and the Oxy-Acetylene Light. #

Ye-e-e-e-eah!

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

So, here's a plot spoiler alert.

Close your ears if you want.

Our beloved Father O'Brian, whose idea this ship-building was,

is not going to make it through the second act.

He's been diagnosed with, uh, a terrible disease.

And first, this scene was just a dramatic scene, there was no

singing in it, and then

our esteemed producer came to me one day and said,

"Sting, you've got to musicalise that scene."

Now I'd never heard of that verb before.

But I knew what he meant.

And luckily, already in the text there was

a metaphor, which I thought I could use. This song

is called So To Speak, thank you.

# They're seriously saying it's prolonging me life

# If I'll only submit to the surgical knife?

# But what are the odds on a month or a week?

# When the betting shop's closing its doors, so to speak

# When you're tied to a pump and a breathing machine

# With their X-rays and probes and their monitor screens

# And they'll wake ye up hungry, saying, how do ye feel?

# And then you're stuffed full of pills or a barium meal

# Prolonging me life? Now that's some kind of joke!

# I'd be laughing me head off And I'd probably choke

# The spirit's still willing But the rest of me's weak

# Now the bets are all off and the prospects look bleak

# When you're laid like a piece of old meat on the slab

# And they'll cut and they'll slice And they'll poke and they'll jab

# And they'll grill ye and burn ye And they'll wish ye good health

# With their radium, chemo And God knows what else?

# Well, ye can't fault the science Though the logic is weak

# Is it really an eternal life we should seek?

# That ship has sailed That ship has sailed

# That ship has already sailed So to speak

# Our mission is more than a struggle for breath

# For a few extra rounds in a fight to the death

# When our mission is love And compassion and grace

# It's not a test of endurance or a marathon race

# For love is the sabre and love is the shield

# Love is the only true power we wield

# When eternal love is all ye should seek

# And that ship will be ready to sail, so to speak

# Well, I'm tossed and I'm torn Like a leaf on a street

# And I'm blown every which way By the tides of a dream

# And the ship of my heart doesn't know what it seeks

# And the water's way over my head, so to speak

# So make a decision, Meg Hold to it fast

# Keep your hand on the tiller Tie yourself to the mast

# For this sea of emotions No place for the meek

# When it's only eternity's love We should seek

# For when that ship sails And the course has been set

# And the wind's in the offing And the sails have been let

# And the hatches are full And the hull doesn't leak

# That ship will be ready to sail

# So to speak

# I'm tired and fading And losing the light

# And I've no way to tell If it's day or it's night

# Follow your heart It's the harbour you seek

# And this ship is ready to sail

# This ship is ready to sail

# This ship is ready to sail

# So to spe-e-e-e-eak. #

APPLAUSE

# Show some respect on this deck for the dear departed

# Gather yous round, let's be bound by the work we started

# Save all your strength for the length of the task before us

# Think on that ship on the slipway They can't ignore us

# It's what he would have wanted He'll not be disappointed

# Each of us well appointed We've all but been anointed

# Such was our occupation This means of our salvation

# We'll make a rope out of our dreams and hopes and tribulations

# We'll weave these strands together We'll splice a rope and tether

# And though we won't know whether It's fair or stormy weather

# We'll quit this quay and we'll cast this net of souls upon the sea

# Are you with me?

# Pick up your tools, we're not fools to be treated lightly

-# We'll weld our souls to the bulkheads

-Secure them tightly

# We'll use the skills and the crafts that our fathers taught us

# We'll work with pride, not as slaves, no-one ever bought us

# We'll weave a net of our dreams and our hopes between us

# We'll be the envy of that sorry bunch who'll wish they'd been us

# We'll form a web of steel A structure that will not be broken

# We'll be the heroes of the day whenever tales are spoken

# And as the dance gets faster We'll build a double master

# No vessel will outlast her No other ship gets past her

# We'll quit this quay and we'll cast this net of souls upon the sea... #

Come on!

# Come strike the floor with your feet, all you lads and lasses

# And if you're too old to dance You can raise your glasses

# Just come on in, take a spin In your dreams ye've held her

# What are ye? Man or a mouse?

# Or a shipyard welder?

# Shy bairns get nowt for waiting So why ye hesitating?

# Ships don't get built debating Or launched just contemplating

# Wear out your old shoe leather We're in this dance together

# We'll pull the blades and feather In fair or clement weather

# Each one of us connected All trades and skills respected

# Always to be expected We will not be deflected

# We'll quit this quay and we'll cast this net of souls upon the sea

Are you with me? Come on!

# Na-na-na-na na-na-na na-na-na-na-na

# Na-na-na-na na-na-na na-na-na-na-na

# Na-na-na-na na-na-na na-na-na-na-na

# Na-na-na-na na-na-na na-na-na-na-na

# Na-na-na-na na-na-na na-na-na-na-na

# Na-na-na-na na-na-na na-na-na-na-na

# Na-na-na-na na-na-na na-na-na-na-na

# Na-na-na-na na-na-na na-na-na-na-na

# Na-na-na-na na-na-na na-na-na-na-na-a-a-a-a-ah

# Show some respect, fill the deck Get the lassies twirling

# Cos they expect to be swept off their feet and whirling

# Life is a dance, a romance where ye take your chances

# Just don't be left on the shores of regretful glances

# We may not drive Rolls-Royces We're hardly spoilt for choices

# If we're to pay invoices We'll need to raise our voices

# Our strength is in communion This Boilermakers' Union

# This Shipwright Welder's Guild With every working station filled

# These bonds we've spliced together Will face all kinds of weather

# Considered all together And sailing hell for leather

# We'll quit this quay and we'll cast this net of souls upon the sea.

# Where will you be when we cast this net of souls upon the sea?

# Show some respect on this deck for the dear departed

# Gather yous round, let's be bound by the work upon the sea! #

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

# They say there's an underground river that none of us can see

# And it flows through winding tunnels on its way to a tideless sea

# And across that sea is an island A paradise we are told

# Where the toils of life are forgotten

# And they call it the island of souls

# For only a soul can go there A soul that's been set free

# From the confines of our working life

# To find eternity

# Your dad had a cage for his pigeons

# And they say that's where he kept his soul

# And when he watched them fly he would see himself

# At least that's how it was told

# But his soul was still trapped in the cage, son

# While the birds they soared to the sky

# But he couldn't find his own way out

# At least not till the day he died

# A man builds a cage with the tools he is given

# His casket is sealed with a riveter's gun

# Ah, the days in between He's just making a living

# And he takes to his bed And he lays down his head

# And he's passed down his tools to his son

# I know that he loved you But he hadn't the words

# He'd be easier speaking the language of birds

# For to speak of emotion Oh, it just wasn't done

# It was him that was trapped in the soul cage, son

# It was him that was trapped in the soul cage

# Oh, a man builds a cage with the tools he is given

# His casket is sealed with a riveter's gun

# Ah, the days in-between He's just making a living

# Till he takes to his bed And he lays down his head

# And he's passed on his tools to his son

# And the ship's left the quay Only now is he free

# And the days of his labour are done

# Oh, a man builds a cage with the tools he is given

# His casket is sealed with a riveter's gun

# While the days in-between He is just making a living

# Till he takes to his bed And he lays down his head

# And he's passed on his tools to his son

HE HUMS

# They say there's an underground river that none of us can see

# And it flows through winding tunnels on its way to a tideless sea

# And across that sea is an island

# A paradise, we are told

# Where the toils of life are forgotten

# And they call it the island of souls. #

HE HUMS

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

You are too kind!

Before we leave you tonight, we have one more song,

but first of all I want to tell you a little story.

In my home town, we never saw any celebrities.

Very short on celebrities in my town.

Except when they would launch a big ship, they would invite

a member of the royal family to come to our town to throw some champagne

at the bow, and the ship would go into the river.

So one Saturday

my mother dresses me up in my Sunday best, which I hate,

and she gives me a little British flag, the Union Jack,

and the whole street's out there, and everybody's really excited.

Even the Communists are excited,

because the Queen Mother is coming.

So, we're all stood there, then suddenly at the top of the hill,

there's some motorcycle outriders, police.

And then this gigantic Rolls-Royce moving very slowly,

in a stately fashion down the street.

Now to explain to you Americans what the royal family means to the British.

It wasn't that long ago that children with diseases like scrofula

were held up to touch the hem of the monarch's garment to cure them.

All right? It's true.

So, there I am, stood there, and the car's moving past me,

and I wave my little flag

and the Queen Mother waves back.

She smiles at me and I smile and I wave my... She sees me.

She picks me out of all of the crowd.

Well, I wasn't cured of anything.

LAUGHTER

It was the opposite. I was infected with something.

I was infected with this idea that I don't want to be on the street.

I don't want to end up in that shipyard.

I want to be in that car.

LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE

And so I'm here. Anyway.

Appropriately,

appropriately, this next song begins in Buckingham Palace.

-You ready?

-Ready.

# And you Jackie White Shall I pass you this chalice?

# Is there something afoot down at Buckingham Palace?

# Well, the footmen are frantic in their indignation

# For it seems the Queen's took a taxi herself to the station!

# Where the porters, surprised by her lack of royal baggage

# Bustle her and three corgis to the rear of the carriage

# For the train it is crammed with all Europe's nobility

# None of them famed for their compatibility

# There's a fight over seats I beg pardon, Your Grace

# But you'll find that one's mine So get back in your place!

# Aye, but where are they going? The porters debate

# Why they're going to Newcastle and they dare not be late

# For they're launching a boat on the Tyne at high tide

# And they've come from all over, from far and from wide

# Oh, there's the old Dalai Llama And the Pontiff of Rome

# Every palace in Europe And there's no bugger home

# Here's the Duchess of Cornwall and the loyal Prince of Wales

# Looking crushed and uncomfortable in his top hat and tails

# And they haven't got tickets Oh, but it's just a detail

# There was no time to purchase and one has to prevail

# For we'll get to the shipyard or we'll end up in jail

# And the last ship sails

# Oh, the roar of the chains and the cracking of timbers

# The noise like the end of the world in your ears

# As a mountain of steel makes its way to the sea

# And the last ship sails

# It's a strange kind of beauty It's cold and austere

# And whatever it was that you've done to be here

# It's the sum of your hopes your despairs and your fears

# When the last ship sails

# Oh, the first to arrive saw these signs in the east

# Like that strange moving finger at Balthazar's Feast

# Where they asked the advice of some wandering priest

# And the sad ghosts of men Whom they'd thought long deceased

# And whatever got said They'd be counted at least

# When the last ship sails

# Oh, the roar of the chains and the cracking of timbers

# The noise at the end of the world in your ears

# As a mountain of steel makes its way to the sea

# And the last ship sails

# And whatever you'd promised Whatever you've done

# And whatever the station in life you've become

# In the name of the Father In the name of the Son

# And whatever the weave of this life that you've spun

# On the Earth or in Heaven or under the sun

# When the last ship sails

# Oh, the roar of the chains and the cracking of timbers

# The noise at the end of the world in your ears

# As a mountain of steel makes its way to the sea

# And the last ship sa-a-a-a-ails! #

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

I don't think anything you do can get away from who you are.

Why would it? Why would we want it to?

I'm proud of my story, I think it's a good story.

It's not finished yet, but I'm proud of who I am,

I'm proud of where I come from.

It's a simple abiding emotion in me, is gratitude.

I'm grateful.