Standing at night on a dockside in Hull
Watching the ships that lie still in the port
Un-noticed, unseen as a solit'ry gull
Wondering what these grey ships could report
Voyages round the world twice every year
Thrice to Zeebrugge and back every week
Four ocean's crossed and the manifest's clear
Tales there are none though for these ships don't speak
Lie there and wait for the word from the shore
Let go all lines and push off from the side
What was once dormant is living once more
Silently slipping away down the tide
Carrying cargoes to everywhere
Bringing back things from the rest of the world
Enabling commerce with terms that are fair
Sailing with flags of convenience furled
Then after decades of travelling far
Engines and drive shafts are starting to screech
No longer following its guiding star
Every ship runs up its terminal beach
Though winches and cutters will tear her to bits
That's not the ending for beings like these
The metals will go back to sea as new ships
The stories will linger in crew's memories