Springingtiger's Blog

City on The River

When I was young my politics was full of certainty, as I grow older I find certainties replaced by questions.


Land-damned the legless sailor sits
Watching set sail the sea bound ships
And the Cunarders on the slips
Swamp spectators up to their hips.
No one warned them of the great wave
That a slip launched ship always gave,
But no one could the shipyards save,
A decline severe became grave.
Grave-bound the legless sailor lies.
No more the Clydebuilt steamer plies
Its trade beneath the island skies.
From where to what will the Clyde rise?

Can we rise, a nation again,
Or must we a province remain?
Can the SNP break our chains
And wash from us the bitter stain
Of submitting to English might
When we should have stood up to fight?
May we not yet restore our right
So never more the worker sits
Because there’s neither steel nor ships?
Reopen the yards and the slips
Let’s build again our trains and ships.

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