from Dick Holdstock. It is on his CD, Winter in the Woods
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Below are the lyrics.
You wake up in the morning,
The dawn's as black as night.
Your father's shouting down the hall
And you know she's winning the fight.
Well you best venture out of bed me lad
For the time is getting late.
Then down the stairs and up the street
And through the factory gate.
Turning steel how do you feel,
As in the chuck you spin?
If you felt like me,
You'd go right out right
And never turn again.
Wet and bleak the morning,
As you squeeze through the gate,
As the clock in the bell will ring,
Eight hours is your fate.
Off comes your coat all wet and damp
And "Right lads" is the cry.
With an eye on the lathe,
And the other on the clock,
You'll wish that time would fly.
The Gaffer's walking down the shop
And so it's work you must.
The dizzy, grinding, groaning metal,
The hot air and the dust.
But I'm often thinking of my girl
While walking through the park
While gazing at the blooming steel
And a million flying sparks.
Old Tom Black last Friday
His final bell did ring.
With his hair as white as his face beneath,
his oily sunken skin.
Well he's made a speech
And he's bid farewell
To a lifetime working here
As I shook his hand I knew that he
Had labored fifty years.
And when at last me time it comes,
And I can leave this place,
I'll walk out past the charge hand's desk
And I'll never turn me face.
Out through the gates into the sun,
I'll leave this place behind
With but one regret For the lads I've left
To carry on the ground.