Workin' in the foondry, tryin' tae mak a wage,
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
I hivnae got a notion, tae sail the world aroon',
See London, Rome or Paris, or men yellae, black and broon.
So I widnae be a sailor, on the ocean wild and wide.
The Foondry work's sair, but I dinnae care -
It's here I want tae bide......
Workin' in the foondry, tryin' tae mak a wage,
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
I could hae been a jiner, and made things oot o wid,
A mason or coal miner wid hae suited jist as guid.
Noo I work aside my faither - He'd a word in the Gaffer's ear.
"Noo the laddie's grown, wad ye tak' him on?"
That's why I'm here.........
Workin' in the foondry, tryin' tae mak a wage,
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
I dinnae hae a castle, or a hoose in the country side.
In a wee single end along the road, my wife and faimly bide.
We let it frae the foondry, though the rent's a wee bit steep,
But we manage fine, and I ken it's mine,
Jist as long as I keep...
Workin' in the foondry, tryin' tae mak a wage,
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
I've never been a shirker, though at times the work's gey sair,
An the stoor goes in yer nostrils, and every ither where.
We mak ranges, gratings, railings - oanything at a''
And we're jist a treat at a gairden seat -
And piece time kick the ba'.
Workin' in the foondry, tryin’ tae mak a wage,
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
I hivnae got a notion, tae sail the world aroon',
See London, Rome or Paris, or men yellae, black and broon.
So I widnae be a sailor, on the ocean wild and wide.
The Foondry work's sair, but I dinnae care -
It's here I want tae bide......
Workin' in the foondry, tryin' tae mak a wage,
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
I could hae been a jiner, and made things oot o wid,
A mason or coal miner wid hae suited jist as guid.
Noo I work aside my faither - He'd a word in the Gaffer's ear.
"Noo the laddie's grown, wad ye tak' him on?"
That's why I'm here.........
Workin' in the foondry, tryin' tae mak a wage,
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
I dinnae hae a castle, or a hoose in the country side.
In a wee single end along the road, my wife and faimly bide.
We let it frae the foondry, though the rent's a wee bit steep,
But we manage fine, and I ken it's mine,
Jist as long as I keep...
Workin' in the foondry, tryin' tae mak a wage,
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
I've never been a shirker, though at times the work's gey sair,
An the stoor goes in yer nostrils, and every ither where.
We mak ranges, gratings, railings - oanything at a''
And we're jist a treat at a gairden seat -
And piece time kick the ba'.
Workin' in the foondry, tryin’ tae mak a wage,
Been there aw my workin life, since fourteen years of age.
I'll never be a rich man oan the foondry pey at a'
But I dinnae complain o' the job that I'm daen -
I jist keep workin' awa'.
envoyé par giorgio - 3/12/2009 - 12:11
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Lyrics and music Stuart Simpson
Album: The Bo'ness Ballads [2005]
The song deals with conditions for Iron Foundry (Foondry) workers from 1850 to the 1950s, where jobs were almost hereditary, passed from father to son, and housing was owned by the foundry owners. Inspired in part by my uncle Ian, who worked there for all his working life. "