A Lamplighter
By Monty Alexander
As the town of Belfast grew in size, dependable
street lighting became a necessity with piped coal gas from
a new gasworks completed in 1823 solving the problem for over
150 years, before being superseded by electric at the latter
end of the 20th century. The gas lanterns were mounted on substantial
caste iron standards, with some in narrow streets supported
on wrought iron wall brackets. This was state of the art technology
when introduced and Belfast was one of the first places outside
London to have such a public facility. In its heyday upwards
of 100 men were employed, plying the streets to tend the lights
both morning and evening.
Having talked to Alan Symington about his experiences
as a Belfast lamplighter a job I remember him doing, I decided
to preserve this little bit of history in the following verse.
They trace that part of his life from Lamplighter to Merchant
Seaman.
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A Lamplighter
(1956 鈥 1961)
My name is Alan Symington, from South Belfast I hail:
Before I am too old to tell, you must hear my tail.
On reaching the age of seventeen, employment I had to find.
As away back then in idle state, found people not so kind.
On looking round about me, I saw a 鈥淟amplighter鈥
up a pole.
He told me they were wanting men and it could be my role.
I mentioned it to mother, who was near demented,
Advising that I鈥檇 cowp and fall; her intention to prevent
it.
Regardless of this fear and chiding to the depot I did go,
To meet the head Lamplighter who wished for every globe to glow.
鈥 You鈥檒l require a head for heights鈥, he said,
鈥淒o you ride a bike?
It will need to be a good one, punctures mean you have to hike鈥.
I just stood there nodding, impressed by knowledge and address;
For eight pounds a week the job was mine, not a penny more or
less.
On Monday morn I reported in, so keen, fit and well
And got my Corporation coat, 鈥淟amplighter鈥 on each
lapel.
Training started right away, an 鈥淥ld Hand鈥 showing
me what to do,
Who stressed clean lamps were paramount; he was twenty two.
With paraffin rag I cleaned the glasses, both inside and without.
Standing back I鈥檇 peer up at them, a job of pride, no
doubt.
Technology was involved as well with mantles to be changed
Every fortnight clocks for winding and lighting times arranged.
Lamps were checked in early morn with any adjustment done,
Then later to see each light was lit, at the sinking of the
Sun.
I was taught the art of handling, long ladders to places high:
Which were mostly on the main roads with Trolleys buzzing by.
One needed sense of balance to ride ladder on the shoulder;
People stared in disbelief, no performer could be bolder.
But enabling one to lofty heights, best trick was step and chain:
For 鈥榮tandards鈥 in the side streets with lanterns
to maintain.
This miracle of minor engineering was carried in the pocket,
Avoiding the use of ladders; less torque upon the sprocket.
--------------------o-----------------
From the daily exercise of biking I had the legs of a grasshopper,
With which I speedied up the poles and never came a cropper.
Ropework girls would shout, 鈥淗i Monkey鈥, so impressed
by my accent,
Smiling I would wave to them; hoping to meet them on descent.
Now Belfast鈥檚 streets were many with Depots here and there,
At Ormeau, Tates, Duncairn, the East, I served from all with
flair.
Holyland, Roads Albertbridge, Ravenhill, the one to Newtownards,
A strenuous daily schedule, no time for dalliance or cards.
Then the street of Cromac, its Butchers, Pubs and Lundy鈥檚
鈥楽hap鈥
A man prepared to sell you anything and never in a flap.
Up the Falls to Springfield Road, but Jordanstown was the best,
A long ride twice a day and between, a rest.
I would stash my ladders there in the old Church hall,
Always ready for friends to borrow, I can now recall.
--------------------o-----------------
The years flew by to sixty one when I looked beyond the land,
Into the blue where billows rolled, all sunshine, wave and sand.
So as the intrepid mariner I touched places o鈥檈r the sea,
Where lights of foreign ports, twinkled memories to me.
Of lamplighting times in flaming youth, bedside my native shore,
Where the lights had turned electric and the gas lamp was no
more.
I could taste the tea of friendship from those whom I鈥檇
served,
Respect shown by each for all; esteem so well deserved.
Then in my dream I鈥檇 ride along even though I were afloat,
Free-wheeling down the Duncairn Hill, in my Lamplighter鈥檚
coat.
Monty Alexander
Written 鈥 Spain 2002
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