THE SWAN NECKED VALVE.

When Strathclyde was in Brigton and my time was nearly oot
What happened in the monkey shed I'll tell ye a' aboot.

Chorus.
Rickie doo dum da, doo dum da,
Rickie, tickie doo dum day.

A sneezer o' a job came in and I was left to solve
The problem of the makin' o' the swan-necked valve.

I looked at it and wondered where the pairtin I should mak'
And syne I prayed the gaffer he would come and tak' it back.

But nothing came to save me and I had to mak' a delve
I worked wi' trepidation on the swan-necked valve.

I took a double pairtin' wi' a tap and drag as well,
And every snug was aff the box - ye've seen that kind yersel'.

My mates a' looked at me and said - "Ye never will evolve
A system for the makin' o' the swn-necked valve."

I got a clamp fu' six feet long and stuck it doon the side,
And in the absence o' a pin, that was my only guide.

And tho' my knees were shakin', sure I worked wi' grim resolve,
That clamp stood like a mast aboon the swan-necked valve.

They sent my brither Sammy in to help me close and cast,
And syne the first thing that he did was ca' awa' the mast.

So noo I didna ha'e a guide; my heid seemed tae revolve,
As pairt by pairt we closed by guess, the swan-necked valve.
^^

From 'The Singing Island' by Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger. The notes to the song say: There are few iron-moulders in Britain who have not heard of Alex Russel of Dundee, the author of this song, for Russell is the undisputed bard of the iron-founding industry. An admirer and disciple of Robert Burns, Russell excercises his considerable gifts by recording in verse the day-to-day struggles of his fellow workers. The air is the one usually associated with The Keach in the Creel.