Aboard the Lucy Megan by Peter Clement © 2019 Recorded by Peter Clement You slip your morning mooring as the mist begins to lift Take a seat at bow or stern - to take your ease - you've earned it Sun may beam or rain may spill Bottle-bottom on the water But it's just a steady pace until the lock ahead.. when Up she rises - or down she goes That's decided by the way the water flows You swing back the lock gate to go the way you chose.. Up she rises - or down she goes The contours of the country dictate the straights and curves Each field and factory that glides by - tells a story - tells you why A thousand navvies dug the cut Muscle, shovel, barrow But it's just a steady pace until the lock ahead.. when Refrain You take turns on the tiller - take turns to make the tea Passers by call hello - you give a wave as on you go Here's a warehouse here's a crane Once a working wharf But it's just a steady pace until the lock ahead.. when Refrain When boats were for work and carried cargo They would be a family's floating home Cheek by jowl where the toil would take them Hauled by donkey, horse, man or mule Each bridge has number every town a tale to tell From your narrow boat you cast your eyes on an ever-changing wide horizon Quiet meadow or roaring road Soon are just a memory But It's just a steady pace until the lock ahead.. when Refrain There'd be a few bright bits in the cabin A Measham teapot taking pride of place Roses and castles for decoration And a horse's tail hanging from the stern As dusk drapes a cloak and the colours go to grey You seek a place to spend the night - moor up in the fading light Silence settles - mist returns Becalmed until tomorrow then It will be steady pace until the lock ahead - when Refrain Notes from the song writer : I grew up as the youngest of six children of a tenant farmer of a smallholding. I’ve always been keenly aware of the disconnect between some peoples’ rose-tinted view of countryside life and the reality of dawn-to-dusk hard physical work. So it was when I joined my brother on the narrow boat he built [the eponymous Lucy Megan] on the Montgomery canal. As we glided through the wonderful countryside of the Welsh Marches I was acutely aware of the canal-side clues indicating the effort expended both on its construction and its working past. As the boat negotiated a lock and I opened the ground paddle ‘up she rises – or down she goes’ came into my head and was committed to the piece of paper I always carry. The rest followed as the ‘steady pace’ allowed me plenty of time to spot the canal-side clues that echoed the lives of those who made a living digging and working that particular ‘cut’. I live a few miles from Measham which gave its name to the elaborate tea pots mentioned in the song and favoured by those who made their homes aboard working canal boats. Pete Clement