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The Puddler's Tale Lyrics - Artist : Rogers, Stan
They neither know of night or day
They night and day pour out their thunder As every ingot rolls away A dozen more are split asunder There is a sign beside the gate "Eleven Days" since a man lay dying Now every shift brings fear and hate And shaken men in terror crying The molten rivers boil away A fiery brew hell never equaled To their profits the bosses pray And Mammon sings in his grim cathedral His attendants join the choir And heaven help us if we're shirking Stoke the furnace-altar fire And just be thankful that we're working Do this, then, charge the hoppers high Lest you endure the foreman's choler Do this, then, drain the tankards dry And let us toast the almighty dollar That keeps us chained here before the fire Where heat and noise set the weak a-quaking At the siren's infernal cry The open hearth sets the ground to shaking Do this, then, raise the babies high And make them shriek with love and laughter Do this, then, kiss your woman's eyes And raise a song unto the rafters Wash the steel mill from your hair Heap the table till it's breaking 'Nor let terror enter there And in the hearth set the glasses breaking |
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