Sting: When the Last Ship Sails Page #3

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

Oooooooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Oooooooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh.

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?

We've got nowt

We've got nowt else

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?

We've got nowt

We've got nowt else

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?

- We've got nowt

- We've got nowt else

- Hey! 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?

- We've got nowt

- We've got nowt else

- What do we got?

- What do we got?

We've got nowt

We've gooot nooowt

eeeeeeeeeeeelse.

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.

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...

Um, a fantastic director,

Joe Mantello...

and, um...

...and another prize winning writer,

John Logan...

and, um...

...and occasionally they would tell me that,

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

Now, this is novel for me.

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.

Um, 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,

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