(A re-post from a couple of years ago)
Marbella's the spot for mooring your yacht
To ostentatiously show what you've got
But a sight more evocative ploughing the foam
Much nearer the heart and closer to home
Was never a craft you'd look good in
I refer to the Ponty Tom Pudding.
A cross between a barge and a train
With a tug at the bow taking the strain
Everyday making 2 or 3 runs
Every trip hauling 800 tons
Of limestone or coal or with wood in
It's Goole not Cannes for Tom Pudding.
Along the canal to Ferrybridge “C”
To generate your electricity
Or onwards to Goole to ship overseas
For developing nations industries
Or start their economies budding,
Pump-primed by Ponty Tom Puddings.
The roads might be blocked or the trains were on strike
But Tom would chug on just as slow as you like
Never no more than 3 miles an hour
Ensuring continued electrical power
Unhindered even by flooding
Earning its corn was Tom Pudding.
Manning the rig would be Skipper and me
From 14 years old to age 23
The pay was appalling, conditions as bad
The best job of work that I'd ever had
Despite the muck you were stood in
Fighting a snake in Tom Puddings.
Dust up your nostrils, your ears, in your nails
Grafting in rain and in frost and in hail
And Skipper made sure they were clean 'fore a load
I'd be shovelling out muck as even it snowed
They'd have slurry and sludge and with mud in
I've cursed them bastard Tom Puddings.
But sad to relate their days are long past
The Aire and Calder has witnessed their last
Consigned to mem'ry and history since
The closures of Fryston and old Ponty Prince
Two pits my brothers sweat blood in
So Farewell to the Ponty Tom Pudding.