It’s Brasswork: The Light-Keepers Lament. Oh what is the bane of a lightkeeper’s life That causes him worry, struggle and strife, That makes him use cuss words and beat on his wife? It’s BRASSWORK What makes him look ghastly consumptive and thin, What robes him of health, vigor and vim, And causes despair and drives him to sin? It’s BRASSWORK The devil himself could never invent, A material causing more world wide lament, And in Uncle Sam’s service about ninety percent Is BRASSWORK The lamp in the tower, reflector and shade, The tools and accessories pass in the parade, As a matter of fact the whole outfit is made Of BRASSWORK The oil containers I polish until My poor back is broken, aching and still, Each gallon, each quart, each pint and gill Is BRASSWORK I lay down to slumber all weary and sore, I walk in my sleep, I awake with a snore, And I’m shining the knob on my bedchamber door That BRASSWORK From pillar to post rags and polish I tote, I’m never without them, for you will please note, That even the buttons I wear on my coat, Are BRASSWORK The machinery, clockwork, and fog signal bell, The coals hods, the dustpans, the pump in the well, No I’ll leave it to you mates...If this isn’t...well, BRASSWORK I dig, scrub and polish, and work with a might, And just when I get it all shinning and bright, In come the fog like a thief in the night, Goodbye BRASSWORK I start the next day when noontime draws near, A boatload of summer visitors appear, For no other reason than to smooch and besmear, My BRASSWORK So it goes along all summer, and along in the fall, Comes the district machinists to overhaul, and rub dirty paws all over, My BRASSWORK And again in the spring, if per chance it may be, An efficiency star is awarded to me, I open the package and what do I see? More BRASSWORK Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud, In the short span of life that he is allowed, If all the lining in every dark cloud, Is BRASSWORK And when I have polished until I am cold, And I have taken my oath to the Heavenly fold, Will my harp and my crown be made of pure gold? No! BRASSWORK ··· Frederic W. Morong ···

Petit Manan Light Established: 1817 Position: 44° 22.05' N, 67° 51.87' W Petit Manan Island off Petit Manan Point, Maine Characteristic: Fl W 10s Elevation: 123-feet Range: 19 nautical miles Structure: 119-feet high Granite Tower

Web Author’s note: This poem was written by the son of a Maine Lighthouse keeper.  His father, Frederic W. Morong, Sr. was appointed Keeper to Petit Manan, Libby Island, Lubec Channel, and Little River Lighthouses from 1890 to 1915. The author, Frederic W. Morong, Jr., was a District Machinist for the U.S. Lighthouse Service who repaired the Lights and Fog signals of Maine Lighthouses as well as training the Keepers to operate and maintain the Light stations. Fred would frequently hear Keepers complain about about the mundane task of keeping all the Brasswork clean and polished.  Fred wrote the humorous poem to lampoon their constant complaining not their dedication to keeping the Lights. Web page format and content, excluding the poem, Copyright ©2001 to 2003 by Debbie Dolphin. Document Updated: Friday, Dec 05, 2003, 07:03:00pm EST (-5GMT)