The mechanical smell lingers until finally, it’s your scent.
A high corrugated ceiling, rusty, dominant, old and bent.
Each lathe has its song — all turning on the gong.
High-speed steel peels to the noise of clunking chucks.
A pedestal drill squeals; the foreman wildly conducts.
The symphony of engineering consumes everyone’s hearing.
We play all morning long with only tea for fuel.
We dance throughout lunchtime never using the stool.
Music has no time for pauses. Great works demand great forces.
The long rhythmic noon soon becomes early night.
Now tired and weary, we gaze at our work with delight.
When the baton finally rests, the flock flies to their nest.
Until the morrow … sleep tight … last one out kills the light.
A high corrugated ceiling, rusty, dominant, old and bent.
Each lathe has its song — all turning on the gong.
High-speed steel peels to the noise of clunking chucks.
A pedestal drill squeals; the foreman wildly conducts.
The symphony of engineering consumes everyone’s hearing.
We play all morning long with only tea for fuel.
We dance throughout lunchtime never using the stool.
Music has no time for pauses. Great works demand great forces.
The long rhythmic noon soon becomes early night.
Now tired and weary, we gaze at our work with delight.
When the baton finally rests, the flock flies to their nest.
Until the morrow … sleep tight … last one out kills the light.
