Eric: “A good old moan about the demise of the shipyards and the suits brought in to carve them up. This is a long-forgotten song written in Maggie’s day that came back to me at a Unison gig at Guilfest in 2008 when I was doing my stint in Pauline Black’s 3 Men & Black.
My old man was the Scottish delegate for what was then The Boilermakers’ Union so I have a great fondness for the Unions… don’t buy the lie that just because you have a credit card bill you have to take any old tosh the suits dish out. If they had had their way the kids would still be climbing up chimneys.”
Bloomsbury is an affluent district in London’s West End, very far removed from Clydeside or Tyneside. 21 Bloomsbury Street is home to the Official Receiver’s Office. An official receiver manages at least the first stage of bankruptcies and companies wound up by a court.
Margaret Thatcher (1925-2013) was UK Prime Minister from 1979 to 1990. Under her leadership, the Conservative government virtually destroyed the British shipbuilding industry, something that Edward Heath’s government in the early 70s had failed to do, mainly thanks to Shop Steward, Jimmy Reid (one of Eric’s heroes).
The River Clyde (Glasgow) and the River Tyne (Newcastle-Upon-Tyne) were at the forefront of shipbuilding and whole communities built up around them.
“Got our cards” means to be sacked or made redundant.
“Weans” (pronounced “wains”) is a mostly Glasgow word for children.
After her time as Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher bought a house in a “gated community” in Dulwich (pronounced “Dullitch” – another wealthy area of London.
Lyrics
GHOSTS
They’ve called in the suits from Bloomsbury Way
To sort out the mess of the Thatcherite days
When the profit’s God, divided we will fall
Its dead on The Clyde, it’s quiet on The Tyne
The whole dock’s dry no overtime
We’ve got our cards, they’ve sent us home today
So tell me, who can build? Who can sail?
Who can launch a ship with no name?
The ghosts of our ships sailing on the tide
Do they think they can better the toil and the sweat?
Of my faither, his brothers and all the rest
They may as well tear the whole thing down
But you all bought the lie and you all missed the catch
But my weans want this and my weans want that
I’ll send the bill down to Dulwich Town
So tell me, who can build? Who can sail?
Who can launch a ship with no name?
The ghosts of our ships sailing on the tide
So if I meet the suits from Bloomsbury way
Tell you what they’ll officially receive from me
They’ll get my boot right up their poverty
So tell me, who can build? Who can sail?
Who can launch a ship with no name?
The ghosts of our ships sailing on the tide
The ghosts of our ships sailing on the tide
The ghosts of our ships sailing on the tide
Words & Music © Faulkner