The Fourth Funnel
Proud men of Belfast built her
Rivets driven blow by blow
Built with inner savage pride
Workers today seldom know…
And from the sky, swinging crane
The fourth funnel lowers down
As if the ship was a queen
And the funnel was a crown.
She wasn’t to last on the wave
Tragic, it was, her story
But in the shipyard of dreams
All she held, it was glory.
And each rivet was driven
Not just by workers for wage
But with love as if actors
And the shipyard was a stage!