The writer of "The poem" is unknown. This version was taken from the Comet Festival program 2001.

For on that long wall as you walk up the town
Was a plaque which recorded a fact of renown
For here in this town a builder named Wood
Built a steamship "The Comet" the first of a brood.

Princes Street beckons, so turn up that way
and pass all the wee shops well known in their day.
The Misses McGrath where the kids were sent
For tatties and greens only fourpence was spent.

Alan Dunlop had a grocers shop
But when there was bad times and money had stopped
To keep you from starving and feeling the pinch
There were cheap eggs and bacon from Irishman Lynch

The station was there at the top of the street
Remember the blue of the locos, so neat
In their fine Caley colours all hissing and warm
The plume of white steam no the least of their charm

John Wood Street leads you straight down to the Bay
There's the Drydock, the "wee yard" and right in your way
Stands Birkmyre's Mill with it's five storys high
As a kid you thought it reached up to the sky.

Then there's the Castle so ancient and fair
Between two wee yards, now who built in there?
Ferguson Brothers and Lamonts two slips
Finish off this wee tale of the builders and of ships

For that's what we know for there lies our fame
And over the whole world so far from our hame
The ships that we built sailed o'er every sea
From Cape Horn to Greenland, from the gulf to Capri

And those of us living were proud to be part of the industry
Substaining this wee towns heart. It's mostly gone now but
remember the names of many great builders
- best of all was Sir James

I loved the wee Port' as it once used to be
The Glen and the Toll and the East and West Quay
The toon knock as we called it, it's Gold Ship on high
Our wee schools, our Churches and the good old Port High

Just come with me now down memory lane
And picture the Town of the past once again
You came o'er the boundry and all to your right
Were streets dull of aspect but the folks who were bright.

Especially if from the yards on the left
The noise of the riveters sang without rest
Think of the names of those firms working then
Bremners and Kingston right up to the Glen

Gray's mill full of spinners, the wee Davie Shore
Marked the end of the Kingston but wait there were more.
Hamilton's yard the Murdoch and Murry
And then Robert Duncans, but please do not hurry.

The Poem

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