Goes to show that being a fireman in the old times wasn’t a breeze. Work was always difficult, no matter the era. The suck is just different depending on what you did.
Bigger American engines in the later part of the century had an automatic stoker that fed coal into the firebox or if it was on the west coast railroads engines burned fuel oil so the fireman only had to turn a nob or a valve to fire the locomotive.
I could never be so interested in Don Bilston music's whenever he sings, i could understand him and feeling how being a Steam Locomotive Driver and Fireman is HARD WORK to get to and how they were all Serious about this job back in the day since the birth of Trains, If you think this is all Easy Work, you have to put yourself in their shoes and how they had to be fit and strong and healthy to be able to feed the Fire with Coal and making the Train well fed with Coal and to keep it going
*LYRICS* It's not all beer and skittles, this bloomin' job of mine... For it's not a bed of roses a-firein' on the line... They don't give you much money, but lots of slack instead... And they teach you how to work at night to earn your daily bread... Just fancy being knocked up in the middle of the night... With a noise enough to wake the dead and give the neighbours fright... You leave your bed with sad regrets prepared to work a train... Then they tell you that the job is cake, and it's back to bed again... When you get down to the shed, that's when the fun begins... You find that someone's pinched your lamps, and tools, and other things... Of course, it's all against the rules, but still, you do the same... Go and pinch someone else's, or it's you who'll get the blame... You often get an engine that is very shy for steam... It's then you start to realize it isn't all a dream... Your mate sits in the corner doing nothing else but moan... 'Till you wish to Christ he'd shut up, or get off, or stay at home... And when the peg's at danger, just as sure as you're alive... There is a rule made by some fool; they call it 55... You have to tramp past half a mile through hail or snow or rain... To sign the book, then sling your hook, and tramp it back again... And when the journey's ended, and the foreman says sign off... Miles from home, you're landed without money, backer, or scoff... Plodge over at the barracks built inside the station yard... Where the engines sing your lullabies and the beds are bleedin' hard... Or perhaps, it's private diggings that's another lively hole... It's ten-to-one; the fire's gone out to find the bloody coal... You go to bed all famished and pretend it's for the best... It's said, "When your belly's empty, then your brains will get a rest!"... It's really aggravating and it chills you to the bone... When they call you up and tell you you've to work for Dina Home (?)... On the homeward trip, the shovel seems to weigh at least a ton... But you've still got a couple of tons to shift before you're done... For the umpteenth time, you swear you'll chuck the job and do no more... Reach home, then book on in nine hours, and the game starts as before... I very often wonder if I'll get a driver's job... For I'm sick and tired of firing sixty hours for thirty bob... Drivers don't retire on the footplate, they take route... As a fireman, I must wait 'til I fill up dead men's boots... I'll be swinging shovels 'til I die, and then to heaven, go... Or perhaps, I'll still be firing for the old lad down below...
![ILLSLICK X YOUNGOHM - We're The same [Official Video]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/yUJNkobYR0E/mqdefault.jpg)
Goes to show that being a fireman in the old times wasn’t a breeze. Work was always difficult, no matter the era. The suck is just different depending on what you did.
Bigger American engines in the later part of the century had an automatic stoker that fed coal into the firebox or if it was on the west coast railroads engines burned fuel oil so the fireman only had to turn a nob or a valve to fire the locomotive.
I could never be so interested in Don Bilston music's
whenever he sings, i could understand him and feeling how being a Steam Locomotive Driver and Fireman is HARD WORK to get to and how they were all Serious about this job back in the day since the birth of Trains, If you think this is all Easy Work, you have to put yourself in their shoes and how they had to be fit and strong and healthy to be able to feed the Fire with Coal and making the Train well fed with Coal and to keep it going
*LYRICS*
It's not all beer and skittles, this bloomin' job of mine...
For it's not a bed of roses a-firein' on the line...
They don't give you much money, but lots of slack instead...
And they teach you how to work at night to earn your daily bread...
Just fancy being knocked up in the middle of the night...
With a noise enough to wake the dead and give the neighbours fright...
You leave your bed with sad regrets prepared to work a train...
Then they tell you that the job is cake, and it's back to bed again...
When you get down to the shed, that's when the fun begins...
You find that someone's pinched your lamps, and tools, and other things...
Of course, it's all against the rules, but still, you do the same...
Go and pinch someone else's, or it's you who'll get the blame...
You often get an engine that is very shy for steam...
It's then you start to realize it isn't all a dream...
Your mate sits in the corner doing nothing else but moan...
'Till you wish to Christ he'd shut up, or get off, or stay at home...
And when the peg's at danger, just as sure as you're alive...
There is a rule made by some fool; they call it 55...
You have to tramp past half a mile through hail or snow or rain...
To sign the book, then sling your hook, and tramp it back again...
And when the journey's ended, and the foreman says sign off...
Miles from home, you're landed without money, backer, or scoff...
Plodge over at the barracks built inside the station yard...
Where the engines sing your lullabies and the beds are bleedin' hard...
Or perhaps, it's private diggings that's another lively hole...
It's ten-to-one; the fire's gone out to find the bloody coal...
You go to bed all famished and pretend it's for the best...
It's said, "When your belly's empty, then your brains will get a rest!"...
It's really aggravating and it chills you to the bone...
When they call you up and tell you you've to work for Dina Home (?)...
On the homeward trip, the shovel seems to weigh at least a ton...
But you've still got a couple of tons to shift before you're done...
For the umpteenth time, you swear you'll chuck the job and do no more...
Reach home, then book on in nine hours, and the game starts as before...
I very often wonder if I'll get a driver's job...
For I'm sick and tired of firing sixty hours for thirty bob...
Drivers don't retire on the footplate, they take route...
As a fireman, I must wait 'til I fill up dead men's boots...
I'll be swinging shovels 'til I die, and then to heaven, go...
Or perhaps, I'll still be firing for the old lad down below...
make this the anthem of ASLEF
What's ASLEF?
@@MarshallRedmon01 Associated Society of Locomotive Engineers & Firemen, basically a workers union
Can you upload the fireman song by Don Bilston.
Will you upload "Just like your dad" by don bilston?
I will do a lot more, right now I am waiting to repair my PC and as soon as I am done with it I'll do it.
@songsonguitars Goes to show here that not all in the past was great.