Fettling Home

image of factory

Other poems:
Foundry Man
No 159
Who’ll Gimmie Mi a Job Nah
Our Canteen Ladies
Dinner Line
The Ice Cream Van Cometh
The Company Watch
A Little Ditty
A Tale to Tell


Lights Out by Robert Parr

I work hard me
In a hostile environment
Of molten metal and fumes
Whilst an air-conditioned man
In a suit assumes
I'm just a number in personnel
A plastic coated barcode
Someone he's never met - and yet
I'm just a symbol of the manufacture sell off.
In a town full of political lies and paisley ties
A metamorphosis of commerce and riverside luxury

I work hard me.
In Viking negative equity
Thirty minutes for dinner
And ten for a cup of tea
Whilst an air-conditioned man
In a Daimler presumes
That I've become a liability.
A blot on the landscape of the company stats
An industrial failure
No longer able to feed the fat cats
They blame the strength of the pound
On why I can't make it pay
Even though I've done everything I can the Norway
(Never mind,) let's hope it's only our work that goes Hungary.

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