THE HUNDRED-TON CRANE (Paul O’Brien)
Line up in the morning and stare at your shoes
Like meat for the gaffer to pick and to choose
With a tap on the shoulder he gives you the sign
You can hump coal all day for two shillings and nine
I’m telling you jack,
your life’s not the same
when you spend your day loading
that hundred-ton crane
One for to drive it and one for to guide
four for to fill it in the darkness inside
You’ll work like a miner shovelling coal
Scraping the floor deep down in the hold
I’m telling you …..
You think of the blacks with catchy work songs
Plucking the cotton and humming along
You won’t be singing, you’ll just try to breathe
Coughing up lumps when your lungs start to bleed
To pick up your pay there’s no need to go far
They’re dishing it out in the Liverpool Bar
And you’ll envy the cattle-men, envy their trade
As your black hands clench the few bob that you’ve made
There’s mist in the morning when leaving your home
There’s smog in the evening choking the town
You head up the hill now you’ve finished your shift
You’ll be back the next day to shovel and lift