Union Songs

Hard Road

A poem by Mark Tate©1984 Mark Tate

- [play]

On trampled grass of frosty grey
A chill wind blows where shadows lay
Beyond the road and yawning gates
The workshop for its prey awaits
A whistle howls its eerie wail
Begrudged and cursed to no avail
Machines are fed, some spit and choke
With steel and iron stench and smoke
From shrieking lathes the metal flies
The welders arc assails the eyes
On greasy floors neath shattered glass
Run squeaking wheels as trolleys pass
Clothing stains with sweat and dirt
Shock and grief when mates get hurt
Sunken eyes turn grey and red
From dust and fumes and years of dread
On trampled grass of frosty grey
A chill wind blows where shadows lay
Along the road the workshop waits
Pray for life beyond the gates

Notes

Poem written by Mark Tate (1984) while working at Elcar Workshops, Sydney

From the "Trains of Treasure" CD, recited by John Dengate

Return to top of page