The Factory Lad (Colin Dryden) You wake up in the morning and dawn's as black as night Your mother shouting up the stairs and you know she's winning the fight So you'd best venture out of your bed, me lad, for you know it's getting late And it's down the stairs and up the road and through the factory gate Chorus Turning steel how do you feel As in the chuck you spin? If you felt like me you'd roll right out And never roll back in It's wet and bleak, the morning as you squeeze in through the gate As you clock on, your bell will ring, eight hours is your fate Off comes your coat all wet and cold and "Right, lads" is the cry With an eye on the clock and the other on your lathe, you'll wish that time could fly The gaffer's walking down the shop and so it's work you must The grinding, groaning, spinning metal hotter than the dust And I'm often dreaming of me girl as we're walking through the park Whilst I'm gazing on that blueing steel and a million flying sparks Now old Tom Black, last Friday his final bell did ring With his hair as white as his face beneath and his oily sunken skin Now he's made a speech and he's bid farewell to a lifetime working here And as I shook his hand I felt I'd labored forty years So when my time it comes and at last I leave this place I'll walk out past the charge-hand's desk, never turn my face Up to the gates into the sun, and I'll leave it all behind me With one regret, for the lads I have left to carry on their grind MC
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!