The Gee Bulletin contains several examples of work by the poets of the chain. Such artistic endevous deserves to be preserved. Names have been withheld to avoid embarrasment
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From Geoff Lodge
Here’s a double surprise  I) That I am making the effort to contact you.  2) The dedication, to all “radar fitters”, in the form set to music for male voice choirs.
I am a new member of a well known Yorkshire male voice choir (The Skelmanthorpe Male Voice Choir ), who have started rehearsing a very interesting number called “RADAR” , dedicated to someone from another MVC, the chaps name was Eric William Hill, and one of his friends had the idea to put the JOB to musical theme.   All the best Geoff

(ALLAN GLOMAX) Sept. 1958

We got those guardroom blues
We get them every night
We get those guardroom blues
We get them every night
Since our Policeman left for Uchte
The new one ain't doing us right

We work two days at the Tech site
We work all through the night
The next day the guardroom claims us
For yet another night

We got those guardroom blues
And it's a dirty low down shame
We do all the work, mate
The policeman plays the game.


May be sung to the tune of 'While Shepherds Watch'
This work of art originated at Delta slave
While Gee-men watch their tube by night
All seated round the gear
The pulses went from off the screen
And did not reappear

'Fear not 'said 'mech', for mighty dread
Had seized the fitter's mind
They pulled the rods and pushed the knobs
No pulses could they find.

But then a mighty voice did shout
Upon the intercom
'You're off, you're off, here what's your name,
Just get that pulse back on'

The fitter shook from head to toe
And racked with violnt fear
He had been trained upon Nav "A"
And not this bloody gear.

The curses flew, the gear did too,
But all to no avail
Until they spied two u/s leads,
Both hanging on a rail

They grabbed these leads and put them on
The dreaded gear they feared
And then right on the thin green line
The pulses reappeared

The 'mech' then turned to all around
And said 'it's easy, there you are'
Just then the dreaded voice boomed out
'You've got a D.O.R.'

Obviously people of few words.

On the subject of football, we try
To appear very active and spry
But when master is mastered
It's because we're all plastered
And with goals if not girls
We're too shy

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All night,
At the Tech site
Then at restic
at domestic.


Source thought to be Iburg
Those trousers have been pensioned off
Oh what a sight to see
They did their duty very well
O'er mountain and o'er lea

The C.O. he did come and say
Get you a working blue
This one's no good for a smart young lad
This one will never do

The A.O.C is coming down
We've got to look right smart
Go hide those patchy bloomers
Or you will be int the cart

Twas one dark night on yonder hill
You did tear them in shreds
Gadding about in still of night
On toboggans and on sleds

You slid down slopes and hit a stump
In snow one meter deep
It tore a hole in those blue trews
Through which your knee did peep.

You took them back to camp with you
And patched them up right well
Yes, those old trews have lasted long
And have a tale to tell

But the A.O.C. is coming down
We've got to look right smart
Go hide those patchy bloomers
Or you'll be in the cart

Those trousers have been pensioned off
Oh. what a sight to see
They did their duty very well
O'er mountain and o'er lea

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For it's time this from Bravo was very advanced poetry.

'Off' said the monitor
'What ?' said our operator
'Off' said the fitter
'Off' said the monitor
'Tea ?' said the monitor
'Please' said the i/c
'Me too'said the fitter,
'Off'said the monitor
'Fingers' said the C>O>
'........." said the i/c
"Valve nine" said the fitter,
"Valve six" said the mechanic
"More tea" said the operator,
"Please" said the i/c

And 33 minutes later



The prime of my life
is now so they say
So why am I here
just wasting away.

This place is fine
if German you are,
but I'm from old London,
and that's far too far

Fresh air is great
healthy and clean
but I prefer London
Sooty and mean

In one year, god willing
I'll be back in the smoke,
and memories of this place
no tears will invoke.


Ain't no 'appiness in this world,
So  we must be 'appy without it.

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