The Longest Johns | Little Pot Stove | The Longest Johns | Harry Robertson Cover @thelongestjohns | Uploaded 1 year ago | Updated 3 minutes ago
We'd love to hear your suggestions for other songs you'd like us to cover in too. Please leave a comment below with your recommendations.
A great reflective song of life in a remote whaling station where life was hard and the workers living there had little respite from the cold and remoteness. Some would stay over the winter seasons to tend to the engines on the ships, lighting a little stove to keep themselves and their tools from freezing. Written by Harry Robertson, 1971.
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The Longest Johns
https://bio.site/TheLongestJohns
facebook.com/TheLongestJohns
twitter.com/TheLongestJohns
http://www.instagram.com/thelongestjohns
twitch.tv/longestjohnsgaming
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http://www.thelongestjohns.com
open.spotify.com/artist/5k979N1TnPncUyqlXlaRSv
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LYRICS:
In that wee dark engine room,
Where the chill seeps through your soul,
How we huddled round that little pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal.
How the winter blizzards blow, and the whaling fleet's at rest,
Tucked in Leith harbor's sheltered bay, safely anchored ten abreast.
The sailors at their stations, as from ship to ship they go,
Carry little bags of coal with them, and a little iron stove.
In that wee dark engine room…
The fireman Paddy works with me on the engine stiff and cold.
A stranger to the truth is he, there's not a lie he hasn't told.
Well he told me 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…
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…
And then one day we saw the sun and the whaling fleet return.
Meet your old friends, sing a song; hope the season won't be long,
Then homeward bound when it's over; yes we'll leave this icy hole,
But I always will remember that little iron stove.
In that wee dark engine room...
We'd love to hear your suggestions for other songs you'd like us to cover in too. Please leave a comment below with your recommendations.
A great reflective song of life in a remote whaling station where life was hard and the workers living there had little respite from the cold and remoteness. Some would stay over the winter seasons to tend to the engines on the ships, lighting a little stove to keep themselves and their tools from freezing. Written by Harry Robertson, 1971.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Longest Johns
https://bio.site/TheLongestJohns
facebook.com/TheLongestJohns
twitter.com/TheLongestJohns
http://www.instagram.com/thelongestjohns
twitch.tv/longestjohnsgaming
discord.gg/DmrBxG8
http://www.thelongestjohns.com
open.spotify.com/artist/5k979N1TnPncUyqlXlaRSv
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LYRICS:
In that wee dark engine room,
Where the chill seeps through your soul,
How we huddled round that little pot stove
That burned oily rags and coal.
How the winter blizzards blow, and the whaling fleet's at rest,
Tucked in Leith harbor's sheltered bay, safely anchored ten abreast.
The sailors at their stations, as from ship to ship they go,
Carry little bags of coal with them, and a little iron stove.
In that wee dark engine room…
The fireman Paddy works with me on the engine stiff and cold.
A stranger to the truth is he, there's not a lie he hasn't told.
Well he told me 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…
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…
And then one day we saw the sun and the whaling fleet return.
Meet your old friends, sing a song; hope the season won't be long,
Then homeward bound when it's over; yes we'll leave this icy hole,
But I always will remember that little iron stove.
In that wee dark engine room...
