Eric Bogle Wee Dark Engine Room
WEE DARK ENGINE ROOM
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In that wee dark engine room,
Where the chill seeps through your soul,
How we huddled round that wee pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal.
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How the winter blizzards blow, and the whaling fleet's at rest,
Tucked in Leigh harbor's sheltered bay, safely anchored ten abreast.
The whalers at their stations, as from she'd to she'd they go,
Carry little bags of coal with them, and a little iron stove.
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The fireman Paddy worked with me on the engine stiff and cold.
A stranger to the truth was he - there's not a lie he hasn't told.
And he boasted of his gold mine, and of all the hearts he'd won,
And his bonny sense of humor shone just like a ray of sun.
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Then one day we saw the sun and factory ships' return.
Meet your old friends, sing a song; hope the season won't be long,
Then homeward bound when it's over; we'll leave this icy hold,
But I always will remember that little iron stove.
CHORUS