So Far From The Clyde
They had a last supper the day of the beaching.She's a dead ship sailing, skeleton crew,The galley is empty, the stove pots are coolingWhat's left of the stew.The time is approaching - the captain moves over,The hang man steps in to do what he's paid for,With the wind down the tide she goes proud ahead steaming.And he drives her hard into the shore.
So far from the ClydeTogether we ride... we did ride.
As if to a wave from her bows to her rudderBravely she rises to meet with the land.Under their feet they all feel the keel shudder.The shallow sea washes their hands.Later, the captain shakes hands with the hangman,Climbs slowly down to the oily wet ground,Goes 'bout to the car that has come here to take himThrough the graveyard back to the town.
So far from the ClydeTogether we ride... we did ride.
They pull out her cables and hack off her hatches,Too poor to be wasteful with pity or time.They swarm on her carcass with torches and axes,Like a whale on a bloody shore line,Stripped of her pillars, her stays and her stanchions,When there's only her bones on the wet poison land,Steel rods will drag her with winches and engines,Till there's only a stain on the sand.
So far from the ClydeTogether we ride... we did ride.So far from the ClydeTogether we ride... we did ride.