BRASS & IRON.
Robin Madge © 1985
CH. Brass and iron, smoke and fire,
Flames are rising ever higher.
Brass and iron, smoke and fire,
Watch the sparks fly to the sky.
If you come walking down our street
You'll hear the hammer's steady beat.
The sound, the smell, the light, the heat,
The foundry it is working.
There's a lad that stands by the foundry door,
Drawn by the smell and the bellows roar.
He comes to watch the metal pour
And watch the sparks go dancing.
The pattern maker stands alone,
Gives his chisel one last hone,
Then turns away from the grinding stone
To carve the wooden master.
The moulders work away with sand.
Around the pattern it is rammed,
Then on one side it's put to stand
To await the molten metal.
It's here are made those cogs and gears
That serve the miller through the years.
The caster stands in the heat that sears
To pour the molten metal.
If work at the foundry you should try
You'll find it makes you awful dry,
And in the boozer by-and-by
You'll drink away your wages.
Many more verses and the tune can be found here...
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