The Dudley Bucket Basher

'Thirty years both mon and boy 'Bin bashing buckets into shape, I sin me friends grow old wi' me Within these whitewashed walls. Me little 'ommer in me 'and Was new when I fust started 'ere, And now it's worn as bad as I Through all those years of toil. That day I do remember well I turned up at the factory gates, Still wet behind the ears I was But I grew up s' quick. They took me on and placed me 'ere Then showed me what I 'ad to do, Since then each working day I've come And done this same ol' job. I never see the light of day Nor feel the sunlight on my face, An inmate trapped within these walls Until the day I die. Now when I rest me achin' yed I 'ear the clatter as I sleep, There's no escape it follows me Wherever I do go. Yet if I 'ad me time again I wouldn't change a single jot, So many loffs I've ad in 'ere With all me bestest mates'.