CLYDE BUILT As recorded by Will Fyffe on the album “Scotland’s Stars on 78: Will Fyffe,” 1994. (The cut is called “Will Fyffe’s War-Time Sketch: ‘Clyde Built’ ”)
[Sung:] I’m just a shipyaird worker but I’ve got a worker’s pride, When I see a vessel risin’ in the stob(?). Aye, an’ when the job is finished an’ she floats oot on the tide, I shout: “Another winner for the job!(?)” Aye, an’ it’s Clyde built! Mon, there’s no a ship afloat, Tae ever haud a candle tae a Clyde-built boat. Clyde built! Aye, an’ British through an’ through, An’ like the men that build them, staunch an’ true. From Devon tae Dumbarton, we’re earnin’ oor bawbees Buildin’ masterpieces tae sail the seeven seas. Aye, an’ they’re Clyde built! Search the wurruld wide, Ye cannae get them better than we build them on the Clyde!
The Germans tried their level best tae steal the prize awa, And the Frenchmen built the Normandy, it’s true, But when it comes tae haundin’ oot the medals for the best, Ye’ve got tae give the credit where it’s due. Aye, an’ it’s Clyde built! Mon, there’s no a ship afloat That could ever haud a candle tae a Clyde-built boat. Clyde built! Aye, an’ British through an’ through, An’ like the men that build them, staunch an’ true. The MacGregors, the MacCulloughs, the MacDonalds, an’ MacQueens Are turnin’ oot the answer tae the German submarines. Aye, an’ they’re Clyde built! Search the wurruld wide, Ye cannae get them better than we build them on the Clyde!
[Spoken:] It’s a’ right; it’s a’ right. We know what we’re doin’; we know what we’re doin’. Ye don’t need tae tell us what tae do. We’re turnin’ oot the ships a’ right. [In a posh English accent:] Of course, there’s been a lot of criticism in the newspapers about the shipyard workers. Have you read the criticisms about us fellows? Jolly clever! [Back to his normal Scottish accent:]… a right gallus lot.... We don’t mind bein’ criticized if it’s fair. There’s only one critic we want tae get haud o’ in the shipyaird here. That’s the man that wrote on the side o’ the dockyaird wall: “Never has so little been done by so many in such a hell of a long time.”
That’s a wee bit below the belt. Course, I must admit we’re a right gallus lot, ye know, but we get a good laugh even when we’re workin’ hard. We’d a great laugh on Tuesday wi’ big Jimmy MacCullough, great big fella, six foot four an’ a half. He fell seventy feet into the hold o’ one o’ these ships that we’re buildin’, broke both legs, four ribs, an’ his shoulder blade. The funniest thing I’ve ever seen in ma life!
Because it was his ain faut, his ain faut! Walkin’ along on the top deck in the blackout, three o’clock in the mornin’ wi’ his hands in his pockets. That was his big mistake. There’s nobody allowed tae have their hands in their pockets except the foreman.
Jimmy was walkin’ along the top deck wi’ his hands in his pockets lookin’ up at the sky, thinkin’ about the fitba’ match on Saturday. So anyway, seventy feet I saw him go! Seventy feet an’ he didn’t hesitate one second from the moment he left the top till he hit the bottom!
Broke both legs, four ribs, an’ his shoulder blade, so we sent him tae the Royal Infirmary at three o’clock in the mornin’. An’ at half past three, the dock polisman had tae break the news to his wife, Mrs MacCullough. Ye can imagine the fright the wee woman got, wakin’ up at that hour ... at half past three in the mornin’, wi’ a man at work, an’ seein’ a big polisman at the door, you know. So the big polisman looked at her. He said: [gruffly] “Are you Mrs MacCullough?” Ye know, the kindly way the police have. She said: “Yes, that’s me.” “Well,” he says, “I’ve come tae tell ye yer husband’s fallen seventy feet inta the hold o’ a ship, broken both legs, four ribs, an’ his shoulder blade. He’s in the infirmary." She said: “Heavens! Is that what it is? Ye give me an’ awfu fright. I thought I was showin’ a light!” *
That’s the spirit of the women of Scotland. Oh, but we’d another big laugh on Tuesday wi’ wee Geordie Broon, a wee bow-leggit fella drives a horse an’ a lorry. He was comin’ doon tae the dock wi’ a load o’ steel last Tuesday, an’ he noticed it was five minutes tae closin’ time. So as any other driver of a horse an’ a lorry would do in Scotland, he stopped his horse. He thought he’d knock off a bucket, ye see. Well, he wanted somebody tae haud his horse for a couple o’ minutes. Course, there was nobody aboot at that time. They were a’ in, ye see. But comin’ roond the corner he saw a wee fat man wi’ a dark overcoat on an’ a bowler hat—ye know, a Glasgow business gentleman. Ye know, ye’ve seen them, ye know. Wi’ a pair o’ those square-toed boots they wear tae get nearer tae the bar wi’. Well, he stopped this wee man. He says: “Hey, mister! Would ye mind haudin’ ma horse for a couple o’ minutes?” The wee man looked at him. He said: “Don’t you realize that I’m a town councilor?” “Oh,” wee Geordie says, “I’m sorry about that. I didna realize that. A town councilor! Well, that’s different, but, ach, heavens! Surely I can trust ye wi’ a horse an’ a lorry!”
I tell ye, we’re a right gallus lot. There’s no mistake aboot it. But oor hairt’s in the right place, an’ we’re doin’ a job o’ work with oor sleeves rolled up. An’ there’s one thing: we can keep oor mooths shut. We can keep a secret. Ye remember the big ships that left the Clyde durin’ the war an’ got safe tae the other side o’ the Atlantic an’ not one peep aboot it. Some o’ us are prood o’ that, ye know. Keep a secret! A secret! I had a sweetheart in the dock for years. The wife didn’t know anything at all of her! Sure, aye, an’ I’ll tell ye all about her too.
[Recited:] She was just a growin’ lassie when I met her in the dock. My sweethairt, but I never telt the wife. An’ the boys all loved her too. She was British through an’ through, A lady that we’ll love all through her life, Mon, it was a bonny bonny day, When oor sweetheart sailed away, Out across the ocean with her bonny coat o’ grey.
[Spoken:] And maybe one or two o’ you boys here remember that day, Ye remember when oor royal lady came from Buckin’ham Palace wi’ the king her husband an’ stood amongst us workin’ lads, just as if they were one o’ the family. Aye, he patted me on the back. He did that! Mind, you know, it was quite pathetic, but the most pathetic sight that day was tae stand there amongst thoosands o’ Scottish shipyaird workers, an’ watch the expression on their faces when a whole bottle o’ good stuff went bang up against her!
[Recited:] Aye, it was a bonny royal day, When oor sweetheart sailed away, A lady that we’ll all love tae the death, But when peace comes through the rain, She’ll come sailin’ back again, Our bonny royal Queen Elizabeth.
[Sung:] There’s no a ship afloat, That could ever haud a candle tae a Clyde-built boat. Clyde built! Aye, an’ British through an’ through, An’ like the lads that build them, staunch an’ true. From Devon tae Dumbarton we’re earnin’ oor bawbees, Buildin’ masterpieces to sail the seeven seas. Aye, an’ they’re Clyde built! Search the wurruld wide, Ye cannae get them better than we build them on the Clyde!