MEN AT THEIR BENCHES.  

Fathers and Sons,
Fathers and Sons,

Have worked at their benches,
Have worked at their benches,

Beside our river that flows,
Beside our river that flows,

Under the Arches and out to the Seas,
Under the Arches and out to the Seas,

Listenin; for the hooter that blows,
Listenin; for the hooter that blows,

Grey is hair,
And Grey the face,
In this tidal monotony,

Knowing his day,
Spires and Towers will beckon,
 Will beckon,

Fathers and Sons,
Fathers and Sons,

Beside our river that flows,
Beside our river that flows,

Under the Arches and out to the Seas,
Under the Arches and out to the Seas,

Decieving both,

Men their Benches,

Collecting Time and their Watches,
Time and their Watches.  

By Andrew Fry.
Written in memory of those at Shapland & Petters,
 My Time 1979 - 85..