Sting: When the Last Ship Sails Page #7

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

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.

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,

um, 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.

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.

And so, I'm here.

Anyway, um...

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

Saaaaaaaaails!

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.

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Completely fixed: titler

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