Steel.
They’re laying down a mighty keel.
As ant-like workers scurry round
I hear a truly riveting sound.
And as she rises midst the swarm
I see the beauty of her form.
(He has no soul who cannot see
How I am forced to call her “she”.)
And then, ‘a sudden, she’s a ship!
She waltzes down that mighty slip.
Then, in the water, no splash, mind,
This lady floats. Oh! How refined!
Southampton docks: I want to feel,
And touch, and taste the British steel!
Palatial, and stately too.
(There was no like in Xanadu.)
The passengers, the crew, all we
Are safe aboard, so out to sea.
The cheers, the midget well-wish fleet,
That siren deck beneath my feet!
A jewelled city, in the night,
From shame, the very stars took flight.
Her mighty speed seemed but a creep,
So steady that she seemed asleep.
Indeed the city slept.
spoken word new york
