I stand here, where ships are built no more,
Only ghosts now on this lonely shore.
Shipyards gone now, men dream with pride,
Of ships they built on this busy River Clyde,
Ships to sail the world around,
Now all that gone from once a busy town.
Men with skills, nowhere to go,
No more work, feeling low.
The town now dead, it's very sad,
To think of the busy times they had.
Now when they drink and propose a toast,
It's "Here's to the yards and all her ghosts!"