The Stoker.

THE STOKER.

Yes Eighty pounds of Steam we need,
So shovel that coal, Till your hands bleed.
Open the Dampers, Open them wide,
Let the Fans roar get draught inside.
Coal shall burn until it is Slack,
You will shovel to break your back.
Two thousand patients, Perhaps a few more,
In this hospital of ours that's a small score.
So Stoker shovel till the Hi Lo's blow,
Keep the pumps going the water is low.
Take up your rake pull the clinker out,
Quick with that barrow the fires going out.
The Laundry is complaining there is no steam,
You haven't got time to stand and dream.
In the ward the Patients are having a bath,
But you in your dirt haven't time to laugh.
In the kitchen they're busy cooking the dinner,
So give them that Steam you miserable sinner.
In the operating theatre the Surgeons skill,
Can save a patient with your good will.
But he needs that steam, You Mothers son,
So get on that shovel let the sweat run.
Eighty pounds to the square inch, no more,
Throw in that coal let the fires roar.
Run you poor devil there's no time to walk,
The clarifier needs salting to get rid of the chalk.
Put on the kettle, time to brew up,
Eat a quick Sandwich, have a sweet cup.
Then back to those fires, Shovel those coals,
For depending on you over two thousand souls.