I almost forgot I wrote a poem a while back now about the old archway on the Quayside, here it is for all those that remember it.
It’s empty now, the way is blocked
Nothing comes in, nothing goes out
It’s quiet too, the bustle has stopped
Not even a whisper, a laugh or a shout
The men are all older, some long gone
While only a few remember those days
When they toiled hard and long
Unloading the goods to fill up this place
Sure it was tough, every muscle did ache
It went on and on, until it was done
They had to be fit or their backs would break
When the last bag was lifted, the job would be won
Sweating and dirty, blowing and cursing
No sympathy here, no time for flagging
Hands that were raw got no nursing
There’s more to this game than driving a wagon
Back to the dockside, more coming out
All day it went on to lighten the ship
Load after load, a massive amount
No chance of a breather, they’re cracking the whip
They long for the time when all is done
To park up the motors, turn off the key
Head for the pub for a glass and some fun
A chance to relax in the small hostelry
Tomorrow will come and it will all start again
Loading those beasts from front to back
It has to be done in the sun or rain
When skin on the fingers begins to crack
One day it all ends, who would believe
Only the archway remains with nothing behind
What was it all for, what did they achieve
This place that men laboured with body and mind
It’s empty now, the way is blocked
Nothing goes in, nothing comes out
But if you go and listen, don’t be shocked
You just might hear a whisper, a laugh or a shout!