If asked - but you never ask -

I'd answer in tongues

hinting of linns, of Leven,

Nethan, Kelvin, Cart -

but neutral, balancing

both banks equally as I flow...

Do I judge? I mind the hammer-swing,

the welders' flash, the heavy

steel-built hulls I bore downstream

from my city, and maybe

I was a blether-skite then,

a wee bit full of myself,

when we seemed gey near unstoppable...

But how can I stomach any more

of these storm rains? How can I

slip quietly away to meet my lover,

the wide-armed Ocean, knowing

I'm a poisoned chalice

she must drain, drinking

everything you chuck away...

So these days, I'm a listener, aye.

Think of me as a long level

liquid ear gliding slowly by.

I heard the world's words,

the pleas of peoples born

where my ships once sailed,

I heard the beautiful promises...

and, sure, I'm a river,

but I can take a side.

From this day, I'd rather keep afloat,

like wee folded paper boats,

the hopes of the young folk

chanting at my bank,

fear in their spring-bright eyes

so hear this: