blackshirt5
First Post
Damn. *goes back to waiting for this one*
Steam and Steel - A Guide to Fantasy Steamworks - extra teaser posted 4/27/04
- Thread starter HellHound
- Start date
TheAuldGrump
First Post
Safe in the Harbor -Eric Bogle
Have you stood by the ocean on a diamond-hard morning
And felt the horizon stir deep in your soul
Watched the wake of a steamer as it cuts through blue water
Been gripped by a fever you just can't control
Oh to throw off the shackles, and fly with the seagulls
To where green waves tumble before a driving sea wind
Or to lie on the decking on a warm summer evening
Watch the red sun fall burning beneath the earth's rim
Chorus
But to every sailor comes time to drop anchor
Haul in the sail, and make the lines fast
You deep water dreamer, your journey is over
You're safe in the harbor at last
You're safe in the harbor at last
Some men are sailors, but most are just dreamers
Held fast to the anchors they forge in their minds
Who in their hearts know they'll never sail over deep water
To search for a treasure they're afraid they won't find
So in sheltered harbors they cling to their anchors
Bank down their boilers and shut down their steam
And wait for the sailors to return with the treasures
That will fan the dull embers and fire up their dreams
And some men are schemers, who laugh at the dreamers
Take the gold from the sailors and turn it to dross
They're men in a prison, they're men without vision
Whose only horizon is profit and loss
So when storm-clouds come sailing across your blue ocean
Hold fast to your dreaming for all that you're worth
For as long as there're dreamers, there will always be sailors
Bringing back their bright treasures from the corners of earth
The Auld Grump, working his way through the steamships...
Have you stood by the ocean on a diamond-hard morning
And felt the horizon stir deep in your soul
Watched the wake of a steamer as it cuts through blue water
Been gripped by a fever you just can't control
Oh to throw off the shackles, and fly with the seagulls
To where green waves tumble before a driving sea wind
Or to lie on the decking on a warm summer evening
Watch the red sun fall burning beneath the earth's rim
Chorus
But to every sailor comes time to drop anchor
Haul in the sail, and make the lines fast
You deep water dreamer, your journey is over
You're safe in the harbor at last
You're safe in the harbor at last
Some men are sailors, but most are just dreamers
Held fast to the anchors they forge in their minds
Who in their hearts know they'll never sail over deep water
To search for a treasure they're afraid they won't find
So in sheltered harbors they cling to their anchors
Bank down their boilers and shut down their steam
And wait for the sailors to return with the treasures
That will fan the dull embers and fire up their dreams
And some men are schemers, who laugh at the dreamers
Take the gold from the sailors and turn it to dross
They're men in a prison, they're men without vision
Whose only horizon is profit and loss
So when storm-clouds come sailing across your blue ocean
Hold fast to your dreaming for all that you're worth
For as long as there're dreamers, there will always be sailors
Bringing back their bright treasures from the corners of earth
The Auld Grump, working his way through the steamships...
Oh yeah? Take this, ya Auld Grump!
The Engine Room
The sparkling triple expansion,
With its noise and whistling steam
The thumpity thump of the crankshaft,
And the connecting rods all agleam.
The clickity clack of the valve gear,
And the swish of the feed water rams,
The aroma of engine lubricants,
The sound of the oilman's salaams.
The whir from the boiler air fan,
The condenser's different smell,
The leaking steam from loose packing,
The gurgle from the bilge box well.
The sudden blast from the boiler room,
As the junior blows the glass,
The aroma of sweat and brasso,
As the fireman cleans the brass.
The startling ring of the telegraph,
And the action that it brings,
The harmony of disciplined colleagues,
Like music at it swings.
Sunlight streaming through skylights,
Dazzling on polished steel,
Moving around the engine room,
As the quartermaster moves the wheel.
The slowing down of the engines,
And the final telegraph sound,
The quietness of finished with engines,
The joy of homeward bound.
John Baillie
The Engine Room
The sparkling triple expansion,
With its noise and whistling steam
The thumpity thump of the crankshaft,
And the connecting rods all agleam.
The clickity clack of the valve gear,
And the swish of the feed water rams,
The aroma of engine lubricants,
The sound of the oilman's salaams.
The whir from the boiler air fan,
The condenser's different smell,
The leaking steam from loose packing,
The gurgle from the bilge box well.
The sudden blast from the boiler room,
As the junior blows the glass,
The aroma of sweat and brasso,
As the fireman cleans the brass.
The startling ring of the telegraph,
And the action that it brings,
The harmony of disciplined colleagues,
Like music at it swings.
Sunlight streaming through skylights,
Dazzling on polished steel,
Moving around the engine room,
As the quartermaster moves the wheel.
The slowing down of the engines,
And the final telegraph sound,
The quietness of finished with engines,
The joy of homeward bound.
John Baillie
TheAuldGrump
First Post
Conaill said:
Now that was a good song!
*EDIT* And triple compression steam engines are scarily efficient - 1 ounce of coal will carry 1 ton 1 mile. (Of course there are a lot of tons to carry, and the engine itself is a monster... resulting in back breaking labor for the black gang...)Any idea where I might be able to find the tune to go with it?
And how much compression do you think an adamantine boiler could take, anyway? Considering how improved cannon led to improved steam engies in the real world...
And at the other end of the steam spectrum... 'bout as far from war machines and black gangs as possible.
"The Marvelous Toy"
When I was just a wee little boy.
Full of health and joy.
One Christmas morning I received
A marvelous little toy.
A wonder to be hold it was
Many colours bright.
And the moment I layed eyes on it
It became my heart's delight.
It went "Chug!" when it moved,
"Bopp" when it stopped,
"Brrr" when it stood still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
The first time that I picked it up.
I had a big surprise.
For right on it's bottom
Were two green buttons
That looked like big green eyes.
I first pushed one.
And then the other.
And then I pushed on its lid.
And when I set it down again
This is what it did.
It went "Chug!" when it moved,
"Bopp" when it stopped,
"Brrr" when it stood still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
It first marched left.
Then marched right
And then marched under a chair.
And when I looked where it had gone
It wasn't even there.
I started to cry.
My daddy laughed.
He knew that I would find.
When I turned around my marvelous toy
Chugging from behind.
It went "Chug!" when it moved,
"Bopp" when it stopped,
"Brrr" when it stood still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
Well, the years have passed
Too quickly it seems.
I have my own little boy.
And yesterday I gave to him
My marvelous little toy.
His eyes nearly popped
right out of his head.
He gave the squeal of glee
Neither one of us knows just what it is,
But he loves it just like me.
It still goes "Chug!" when it moves,
"Bopp" when it stoppes,
"Brrr" when it stands still.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
I never knew just what it was
And I guess I never will.
(Tom Paxton)
I just did that from my memory of Peter Paul, & Mary - so I hope I didn't mangle it too badly.
The Auld Grump
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Sorry, no tune as far as I know. I'm guessing it's a contemporary poem, written by John Baillie, engineer on board the HMS Superb.TheAuldGrump said:Now that was a good song!
Any idea where I might be able to find the tune to go with it?
(Cool! Did you know there's actually a job called "Engine Room Artificer"?
)Ok, my turn!
Come hear the tale of the brave Royal Terrenes, the fighting men of the British Royal Naval Land Service, riding their steam-powered land iron-clads. (Do check out the link... it's a blast!)
"Terrenes, affectionately known as Terries, were the fighting men of a landship's complement. They were the combat soldiers who trained rifle and machine-gun fire at enemy troops, or, in ship-to-ship actions, at the gunports, pilothouses, and their counterparts on enemy landships. Terrenes were trained in boarding and repelling boarders, sliding down the ship's side on ropes to deploy on the ground or charge enemy landcraft with grappling lines, hauling themselves up the armor, using their distinctive rubber-soled shoes for traction on the steep metal plates."
Terries
The Men of the Royal Terrenes
By Rudyard Kipling (or somebody else)
Hissin' steam an' clatterin' iron, seaborne thunder brought to land,
An' Terry's the lad who is loadin' an' firin', twistin' the crank with 'is blistered hand.
Terry's the lad who is slidin' down, skinnin' the rivets with 'oly trews
'Ittin' the ground an' loosin' the gangrope, awready workin' 'is gumsoled shoes.
Land on the run an' grope for the grapple, straight at the elephant's riveted 'ide,
Swing an' yer 'ooked up, yer dance-card is booked up, Gawd 'elp you should ever you get inside.
Hissin' steam an' clatterin' iron, maritime thunder on rocky plain,
An' Terry's the lad who is glued to the railin', jolted an' joggled an' jolted again,
Terry's the lad who's a bit 'ard of 'earin, from rifle's report and the cylinders' din,
Clatter o' piston, rattle o' bearin', Gawdawful racket without or within.
Can't 'ear the order, no matter, don't need 'em - knows what 'is job is, knows where to fire,
Knows when 'e's 'ungry, knows when 'e's bleedin', knows that 'e'll probably never retire.
Hissin' steam an' clatterin' iron, Neptune's thunder on Mars's field,
An' Terry's the lad who's repellin' the boarders, steam-hose an' saber atop a tin shield,
Terry's the lad who is up in the open, gunners an' engineers down in the shell,
Hearin' the grapples an' prayin' an' hopin', that Terry's still up on top, givin' em 'Ell.
Claw at the boardinglines, 'ackin an' 'ewin', the Nordenfelt's dry an' the stack's burnin blue,
That lad on the other end knows what 'e's doin'. 'Is colors is different, but 'e's Terry too.
Hissin' steam, an' clatterin' iron, land-churnin' thunder bogged down in the mud,
An' Terry's the lad who'll get out an' get under, with shovels an' hatchets an' bundles of wood.
Steam at the heart an' muck on the outside, an' flappin' great treads just to fling it about,
An' Terry's the lad who will catch it all over, 'cause Terry's the lad that they can't do without.
Stand at the rail, an' breathe deep an' easy. She's makin' good speed an' she's back on the route,
An' she's whistlin' a love-call, all white-hot an' wheezy, 'cause Terry's the lad that she can't live without.
Come hear the tale of the brave Royal Terrenes, the fighting men of the British Royal Naval Land Service, riding their steam-powered land iron-clads. (Do check out the link... it's a blast!)
"Terrenes, affectionately known as Terries, were the fighting men of a landship's complement. They were the combat soldiers who trained rifle and machine-gun fire at enemy troops, or, in ship-to-ship actions, at the gunports, pilothouses, and their counterparts on enemy landships. Terrenes were trained in boarding and repelling boarders, sliding down the ship's side on ropes to deploy on the ground or charge enemy landcraft with grappling lines, hauling themselves up the armor, using their distinctive rubber-soled shoes for traction on the steep metal plates."
Terries
The Men of the Royal Terrenes
By Rudyard Kipling (or somebody else)
Hissin' steam an' clatterin' iron, seaborne thunder brought to land,
An' Terry's the lad who is loadin' an' firin', twistin' the crank with 'is blistered hand.
Terry's the lad who is slidin' down, skinnin' the rivets with 'oly trews
'Ittin' the ground an' loosin' the gangrope, awready workin' 'is gumsoled shoes.
Land on the run an' grope for the grapple, straight at the elephant's riveted 'ide,
Swing an' yer 'ooked up, yer dance-card is booked up, Gawd 'elp you should ever you get inside.
Hissin' steam an' clatterin' iron, maritime thunder on rocky plain,
An' Terry's the lad who is glued to the railin', jolted an' joggled an' jolted again,
Terry's the lad who's a bit 'ard of 'earin, from rifle's report and the cylinders' din,
Clatter o' piston, rattle o' bearin', Gawdawful racket without or within.
Can't 'ear the order, no matter, don't need 'em - knows what 'is job is, knows where to fire,
Knows when 'e's 'ungry, knows when 'e's bleedin', knows that 'e'll probably never retire.
Hissin' steam an' clatterin' iron, Neptune's thunder on Mars's field,
An' Terry's the lad who's repellin' the boarders, steam-hose an' saber atop a tin shield,
Terry's the lad who is up in the open, gunners an' engineers down in the shell,
Hearin' the grapples an' prayin' an' hopin', that Terry's still up on top, givin' em 'Ell.
Claw at the boardinglines, 'ackin an' 'ewin', the Nordenfelt's dry an' the stack's burnin blue,
That lad on the other end knows what 'e's doin'. 'Is colors is different, but 'e's Terry too.
Hissin' steam, an' clatterin' iron, land-churnin' thunder bogged down in the mud,
An' Terry's the lad who'll get out an' get under, with shovels an' hatchets an' bundles of wood.
Steam at the heart an' muck on the outside, an' flappin' great treads just to fling it about,
An' Terry's the lad who will catch it all over, 'cause Terry's the lad that they can't do without.
Stand at the rail, an' breathe deep an' easy. She's makin' good speed an' she's back on the route,
An' she's whistlin' a love-call, all white-hot an' wheezy, 'cause Terry's the lad that she can't live without.
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RangerWickett
Legend
For those who haven't spotted it yet, Carnifex posted a small teaser of special materials in this post.
Carnifex, though I have not yet been much involved in this project, that little bit you just posted got me real interested. Hellhound better hurry up and put this out already, or we might impeach him. *wink*
All kidding aside, dang, I can't believe this slipped mostly under my nose. I knew about the project, but I'd never looked much into before. Now I wish I had more free time to read your stuff.
Well, back to studying.
Carnifex, though I have not yet been much involved in this project, that little bit you just posted got me real interested. Hellhound better hurry up and put this out already, or we might impeach him. *wink*
All kidding aside, dang, I can't believe this slipped mostly under my nose. I knew about the project, but I'd never looked much into before. Now I wish I had more free time to read your stuff.
Well, back to studying.
TheAuldGrump
First Post
Conaill said:Sorry, no tune as far as I know. I'm guessing it's a contemporary poem, written by John Baillie, engineer on board the HMS Superb.
(Cool! Did you know there's actually a job called "Engine Room Artificer"?
Yep, I am familiar with the HMS Superb. (I have the site filed away in my book marks.) I even made the connection with Mr. Baillie.
I am currently looking around for the lyrics to Coal Smoke, Valve Oil, & Steam a song I remember from way back when, sung by Johnny Horton (of Battle of New Orleans fame.)...
Meanwhile... Time for the railroad, and the Australia, Ireland, Jerusalem & South Michigan Line. A train engineered by the youngest member of the Bunyan family, that takes occassional express mail to the moon as well as passengers to stops in America, Europe, Antarctica, and all points beyond, with the seasonal trip to the Big Rock Candy Mountains on alternating blue moons... With apologies to Pete Seeger for lifting his monolog.
Wabash Cannonball - Traditional
From the grey Atlantic Ocean
To the wide Pacific shore
From sunny California
To ice bound Labrodor
She's long and tall and handsome
Right well loved by one and all
She's the modern combination
Called the Wabash Cannonball
Chorus:
Oh, listen to the rumble
To the rattle and the roar
As she glides along the woodlands
Through the hills and by the shores
Hear the roar and the hiss of engines
Hear the lonsome hobos' squall
We're travellin' through the jungles
On the Wabash Cannonball
The eastern states are dandies
So the western people say
From New York to St. Louis
And Chicago by the way
Through the hills of Minnesota
Where the rippling waters fall
No changes may be taken
On the Wabash Cannonball
Chorus
I rode the IC Limited,
Also the Royal Blue
Across the Eastern counties
On the Elkhorn number two
I rode these highball trains
From coast to coast, that's all
But I have found no equal
To the Wabash Cannonball
Chorus
She pulled in to the station
One cold December day
As she rolled up to the platform
You could hear all the people say
There's a feller here from Bangor, Maine,
He is long and he is tall
He came down from Aroostook
On the Wabash Cannonball
Chorus
Here's to Boston Blackie
May his name forever stand
May he always be remembered
By the 'bos throughout this land
Though his earthly race is over
And the curtains 'round him falls
We'll carry him on to victory
On the Wabash Cannonball
Chorus
I once ran a Changeling game based around this song, and there are a number of regional variants of which this is my personal gleaning...
The Auld Grump
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TheAuldGrump
First Post
I can hardly wait for this one, I am currently running an Iron Kingdoms game, and some of the players want to try their hands at 'jack creation and other feats of steam engineering.
For me, I am interested in the more mundane creations of steam, trains and steamships, the things that really changed the size of the world. (Though the question of just how much pressure an adamantine boiler could take... You just might make the Allegheny 2-6-6-6 look like small potatoes... And she could take 260 PSI.)
And for my next musical numbah...
Coal Smoke, Valve Oil, & Steam
(Johnny Horton)
Opening & Refrain
Coal smoke, valve oil and steam
My heart is sad - I'm living in dreams
I can't tell why I love the smell
of coal smoke, valve oil and steam
I worked for the railroad all of my life
To make a home for my darlin' wife
But now I'm retired and feeling so low
Weary and tired with a heart full of woe
Repeat refrain
I pulled on the whistle to clear the line
And to bring that fireball in on time
Oh, time in your flight please take me back
Let me hear the drivers click again on the track
Repeat refrain
A short forty years went flyin' in on by
Now I'm so lonesome I could die
If I find heaven the way I've been told
I'll roll an engine down a track made of gold
Repeat refrain
(With thanks to the good folks on the forums at In the 00s.)
The Auld Grump, waitin' on the album.... Waitin' on the book... Waitin' for the PDF... Why can't the stuff I am interested in ever be in stock?
For me, I am interested in the more mundane creations of steam, trains and steamships, the things that really changed the size of the world. (Though the question of just how much pressure an adamantine boiler could take... You just might make the Allegheny 2-6-6-6 look like small potatoes... And she could take 260 PSI.)
And for my next musical numbah...
Coal Smoke, Valve Oil, & Steam
(Johnny Horton)
Opening & Refrain
Coal smoke, valve oil and steam
My heart is sad - I'm living in dreams
I can't tell why I love the smell
of coal smoke, valve oil and steam
I worked for the railroad all of my life
To make a home for my darlin' wife
But now I'm retired and feeling so low
Weary and tired with a heart full of woe
Repeat refrain
I pulled on the whistle to clear the line
And to bring that fireball in on time
Oh, time in your flight please take me back
Let me hear the drivers click again on the track
Repeat refrain
A short forty years went flyin' in on by
Now I'm so lonesome I could die
If I find heaven the way I've been told
I'll roll an engine down a track made of gold
Repeat refrain
(With thanks to the good folks on the forums at In the 00s.)
The Auld Grump, waitin' on the album.... Waitin' on the book... Waitin' for the PDF... Why can't the stuff I am interested in ever be in stock?
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