Long Narrow Shovel
Lyrics

Oh, when it’s three o'clock in the morning, and the moon shines through the park.
The railwaymen are going to work and the dogs creep home in the dark.

With me long, narrow shovel, me bread and cheese, a little white can for me tea.
When I’m too old for a fireman’s work, it’s the driver I shall be.

Oh, when me boots don’t crunch on the gravel, and the black smoke fills the air.
A wisp of steam from the cylinder taps of me engine, waiting there.

With me long, narrow shovel, me bread and cheese, a little white can for me tea.
When I’m too old for a fireman’s work, it’s the driver I shall be.

Oh, we fill up the tank with water, and the tender stacked with coal.
I pick up the shovel in me frozen hands, and I fill up the fiery hole.

With me long, narrow shovel, me bread and cheese, a little white can for me tea.
When I’m too old for a fireman’s work, it’s the driver I shall be.

Oh, we roll on down to the cabin, and the guard is waiting there.
We pick up the train from the shunting yard, and we’re off to God knows where.

With me long, narrow shovel, and me bread and cheese, a little white can for me tea.
When I’m too old for a fireman’s work, it’s the driver I shall be.

Oh, when the firelight’s up on the footplate and the night is sharp and clear.
If a man doesn’t close all the loco sheds, I’ll be here in forty year.

With me long, narrow shovel, me bread and cheese, a little white can for me tea.
When I’m too old for a fireman’s work, it’s the driver I shall be.