Sting: When the Last Ship Sails

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.

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.

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

Saaaaaails.

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.

What you're going to hear,

what you're going to hear is the

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.

- Thank you.

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

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