They had a last supperthe day of the BeachingShe's a dead ship sailing- skeleton crewThe galley is emptythe stove pots are coolingwith what's left of the stewHer time is approachingThe captain moves overThe hangman steps into do what he's paid forWith the wind down the tideshe goes proud ahead steamingand he drives her hard into the shoreso far from the Clydetogether we'd ridewe did rideAs if to a wavefrom her bows to her rudderbravely she risesto meet with the landUnder their feetthey all feel her keel shatterA shallow see washes their handsLater the captainshakes hands with the hangmanand climbs slowly downto the oily wet groundGoes bowed to the carthat has come here to take himto the graveyard and back to the townso far from the Clydetogether we'd ridewe did rideThey pull out her cablesand hack off her hatchesToo poor to be wastefulwith pity or timeThey swarm on her carcasswith torches and axesLike a whale on the bloody shorelineStripped of her pillarsher stays and her stantionsWhen there's only her boneson the wet, poison landsteel ropes will drag her with winches and engines'til there's only a stain on the sandSo far from the Clydetogether we'd ridewe did rideSo far from the Clydetogether we'd ridewe did ride
