Nic Jones — The Little Pot Stove lyrics

Lyrics

How the winter blizzards blow, and the whaling fleet’s at rest
Tucked in Leigh harbor’s sheltered bay, safely anchored ten abreast
The whalers at their stations, as from shed to shed they go
Carry little bags of coal with them, and a little iron stove
In that wee dark engine room
Where the chill seeps through your soul
How we huddled round that wee pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal
The fireman Paddy worked with me on the engine stiff and cold
A stranger to the truth was he — there’s not a lie he hasn’t told
And he boasted of his gold mine, and of all the hearts he’d won
And his bonny sense of humor shone just like a ray of sun
In that wee dark engine room
Where the chill seeps through your soul
How we huddled round that wee pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal
We labored seven days a week, with cold hands and frozen feet
Bitter days and lonely nights making grog and having fights
Salt fish and whalemeat sausage, fresh penguin eggs a treat
And we trudged along to work each day through icy winds and sleet
In that wee dark engine room
Where the chill seeps through your soul
How we huddled round that wee pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal
Then one day we saw the sun and factory ships' return
Meet your old friends, sing a song; hope the season won’t be long
Then homeward bound when it’s over; we’ll leave this icy cove
But I always will remember that little iron stove
In that wee dark engine room
Where the chill seeps through your soul
How we huddled round that wee pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal