Emergency Pump, Level No. 4

In 1908 we set ye up,
A mechanism fine;
We a’ admired ye as ye lashed
The water frae the mine.

Noo that anither’s taen yer place
Ye’re reckoned second-rate,
An’ dark an’ silent there ye stan’
Until there comes a spate.

But when we ask ye for a lift
Ye start aff wi’ a roar,
Sae keen are ye tae dae yer bit
At Level No. 4.

When oiled an’ greased an’ packit weel,
An’ steady hauds the steam,
Ye gang as smooth as ony clock
Or ony poet’s dream.

Tae pumps, an’ horse, an’ human kind,
The kindlier we are
The mair o’ guid we get frae them,
The less tae fret an’ jar.

Sae let us aye keep this in mind
When ilka spell is o’er,
An’ kindly tend ye while ye rest
At Level No. 4.