The streets of the Gorbals run thick with the tales
Three ladies that hing have seen all that's to be
But the men folk still stride out tall and proud
To the gates of the yard and its whistling call
The riveters are meeting already
with news of the slimming and fears of the cuts
And the only possession I own of some value
Is the labor I am and the labor I love
Oh my pride lies washed up by the Quayside
Will there be one more ride down the River Clyde
Still each morning I walk from our room
To stand in line ticket and name
But friends are sent home now time and again
Left with ghosts and whispers and all they became
Threats and disputes ring from the wireless
And what of those men that take longer than most
As we gather together in crowds at John Brown's
We listen to Reid stood shoulder to shoulder
One more wave to old good friends
As they take their last ride down the River Clyde
Brothers be proud we are respected men
We will fight for our basic rights to work these yards again
Brothers be proud, brothers be proud
We will march heads held high through these yards again
The papers claim victory in our struggle
A triumph for Glasgow, a show of our strength
So why do I find myself on my way here
To tell you my dear the news we both dread

I don't know what I'll tell the kids
As I take my last ride down the River Clyde

Here I am drinking to forget
Here I am desperate to remember
Here I am in Brewers Fayre
Wondering how did I ever get here
How did I ever