Bottom Knockers

Here we were, just us bottom knocker’s all;
Young, flinted, bevelled steel, still strong.
Oh how glad, how proud, and in such fine fettle;
As we leaned, upon our plumping mawls… long.
For we were ready, throbbing giddy and sweaty;
As the saggar slowly filled his ever blistered frame.
And with no humility the marl we happily shared;
For we dare not fight against the maker s name.

we were a naked witness to the bottles outer hovel;
Its wicket, stained and cracked but resisted fire well.
So with our placer’s raised in high position shovelled;
We made our mark…within the clammin we stood.
Oh, our saggers were so tall; they nearly went to fall,
As unfired guns want for more, screamed in battle-cry!
While within, our biscuits pinned, with saddled, spur;
Those thimble few, did safely rest with the interred.

With firemouth’s bagged, and battet out and well;
We witnessed the blistering heat start to swell.
Our burnished bodies frenzied bucked and baked.
With toiled rags chopped, we near burst with hate .
Yet deep within our hearts, oh… how our bungs shone;
For they were neither caught taught or made in vain
For we fought the heat with dampers on the crown;
And dared not set a crack against the makers name.