Evening in Dumbarton Road

Drab capped, drab suited, booted men
Surge on to crowded trams,
The Citizen or Evening Times
Thrust under weary arms.
With hands in pockets, three or four abreast,
Some amble quick
To dreary tenements hard by.
Less hasty, Jock and Dick
Join in the queue for cigarettes,
Disinterested, mute…
And still they come, flood through the gates
To take their chosen route
With clinking hobs and tips
To supplement the sound
Of traffic moving slowly through
The mob now homeward bound.
Their thoughts ? Who knows ? Tea, perhaps
Then whisky [what a price !]
A little later with the boys.
Or, will the Rangers twice
Defeat the Papes this season ? Dogs ?
Or shall we dance at Green’s ?
That ruddy foreman. Jean’s new frock…
The shipyard walls entreat
A Second Front, or [odd!]
Ask youth to join the A.T.C….
And on the workers plod.

These are the men who wield the tools
Ensuring that Britannia Rules.


(written in HMS Mistral, in John Brown’s shipyard, 14th June 1942}