Tyre Mill

I don't know who was the author of this brilliant little ditty. Perhaps someone can let us know?

A Tyre Mill Tale

My thoughts go back to the old days, when I started here as a boy.

When the FOREMEN were more like FATHERS, and to come to work was a joy.

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I am talking of many years ago, when the war had just began;

and part of the job as a PUNCHLAD, was to fetch CANTEEN TEA in a can.

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I remember the men of those days, with NICKNAMES quite a few;

and one stands out, the COD on the PRESS,who went by the name of BILL JEW.

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The Press drivers name was FROSTY, a large nosed chap of degree.

You can bet if you put your CAN down, he would come and SUP all your TEA.

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HAMBONE WALT was the weighman, this chap had only one hand.

But to get GOBBED with the one with no FINGERS, was no fun if it happened to land.

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Then there was the family BECKETT, there was SNAKER, WALT, and JOE.

SNAKER was the furnaceman, and always on the go.

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WALT was assistant stamper, a hammer was his tool,

and BERNARD NIXON would watch him close. Owd BERNARD was no fool.

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Because if that HAMMER HEAD flew off, every one would run.

For to get BOUNCED upon the head with THAT, would leave you with quite a BUN.

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JOE was assistant ROLLER to the Roller a man named COOKE.

COOKY was his nickname, and he had a terrible look.

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EDDIE MICK was one of our Foremen, a smashing kind of chap.

His BROTHER worked on the Furnace, and he always wore his CAP.

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Owd STAN was thin on top you see, and he would get quite slick;

at taking off his FLAT CAP, then on with his SWEAT CAP quick.

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Then FREDDIE started in the Mill, he was EDDIES son.

HE'd bet on a couple of CRICKETS, just to see how they would run.

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He liked the horses did that lad, HE'D bet on all the things.

He'd bet on how many TYRES we'd roll, and the width of all the RINGS.

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It was quite an experience in those days, to go to work in the MILL.

With people like LEGGY EDWARDS, and a CHARGER DRIVER named DILL.

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To a boy the canteen was a long way off, and to go up there in the night;

With no lights to guide you on your way, believe me it was quite a fright.

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If the SIRENS started sounding, and we were forging a GUN;

BILL JEW would say BUGGER THIS, and off to the shelter he'd run.

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OWD MAN BENTLEY ran the shop, his assistant was son GEORGE.

The ROLLER on the ROUGHING MILL was HAROLD the brother of George.

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The ROLLER on the FINISHING MILL was a chap nicknamed WHITE CALF.

His real name was ALF ROBINSON, we gave him that name for a laugh.

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Those were the days of the BOGIE, the PEEL and the Roughing Mill Crew.

The CHIPPERS the BOWLERS and STAMPERS, just to mention a few.

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The name of my job was PUNCHLAD, the bottom job in the Mill;

and to swing those heavy PUNCHINGS, was a matter of LUCK not SKILL.

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The FINISHING MILL was a SHAMBLES of HOT WATER, SCALE, and STEAM.

But the men who SWEAT upon those jobs, were a first class Rolling Team.

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There was ROBBO, BLONDIN, and RIBBY, and JIMMY HOLLAND sat up in his box.

CHOPS WELDON down on the SIDE ROLLS, and CHEF GILLOTT sat darning his socks.

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Now the BOGIE as previously mentioned, was a heavy two wheeled kind of KART.

To carry a Tyre needed two of you, and to push it was quite an ART.

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Those were the days of TANK WHEELS and TURRETS, of sandwiches made out of SPAM;

and queues of men outside the CANTEEN, because someone had mentioned BOILED HAM.

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We made TYRES and RINGS and SPROCKETS, and sometimes CHINESE HATS.

Then we all KNOCKED OFF for SNAPTIME, to eat with the CRICKETS and CATS.

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To come to work on the NIGHT SHIFT, during the PURPLE LIGHT;

Was a night in the AIR RAID SHELTER, to play BRAG till the morning light.

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OUR FOREMANS name was ROBBO, a man you could not hate.

But to get him to lose his temper, was to mention SAL, MOLL, TATE.

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These were the troublesome TRIO, as all of the old chaps will guess.

Two of the three were DRIVERS, and ME I worked on the PRESS.

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Then came a great decision, to make GUNS on Number 1 PRESS.

GUNS for the ARMY and NAVY, perhaps some for the OFFICERS MESS.

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The GENTLE SEX then took over; they came to work in the MILL.

To drive the CRANES and the LEVERS, and to talk about MUSSELS and DILL.

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Some of these got MARRIED, to some blokes in the MILL.

BILL PLUMMER married MARY SNEAD; STAN ANDREWS married LIL.

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I'LL have to close this STORY, as I AM GETTING WED;

To a nice girl who's called ALICE, I met in the FITTING SHED.

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THIS WILL BRING BACK MEMORIES OF HAPPY DAYS GONE BY.

WE MAY BE OLD TO LOOK FOR GOLD, BUT NEVER MIND WE'LL TRY.

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