The Factory Lad



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



@work

filename[ FACTRYLD

MC

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