Masked, heat and perspiration mix,
as metal twisted and fired is
formed and left, enviously, to
cool. At the end of a long night
and in the face of the bitter
winter wind and mist, we bask
in our frostbitten faces. Laughter
fills the air as the noise of the works
drifts away. Suddenly, swishing like the sound
of a traction engine at work, eruptions of
metal and flames, bring back old
memories of time served in steaming furnaces,
Blackened faces, stained, torn overalls, bleeding
hands, but no pay packet for this short shift.
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