Brother workmen, cease your labour, Lay your files and hammers by Listen while a brother neighbour Sings a cutler’s destiny: Fare thee well ye factory darlin’s Fare the well me cruel machine Men are here to wet their whiskers Whiskey, Gin and auld Poteen How upon a good Saint Monday, Sitting by the smithy fire, We tell what’s been done o’t Sunday, And in cheerful mirth conspire. Fare thee well ye factory darlin’s Fare the well me cruel machine Men are here upon Saint Monday Whiskey, Gin and auld Poteen Soon I hear the trap-door rise up, On the ladder stands my wife: “Damn thee,…