[Intro: boots, concertina, low fiddle] Some trim the jib and some trim sheet, Some call the course and watch the fleet. Some grind the winch and some steer sail... [Harmony] And some poor bastards ride the rail. [Hook] MEAT ON THE RAIL! MEAT ON THE RAIL! HIKE OUT HARD WHEN BREEZES WAIL! WE DON'T GRIND AND WE DON'T TAIL, WE FIGHT THE HEEL FROM ON THE RAIL! [Verse 1: gritty baritone] No sheet to trim, no course to steer, Just put your backside over here. Weight to weather, legs out wide, Human ballast off the side. The breeze gets up, the boat heels more, Now we're what you brought us for. Hang out farther, hike us flat, Highly trained for sitting at... A remarkably uncomfortable angle. [Chorus: huge three-part harmony] MEAT ON THE RAIL! MEAT ON THE RAIL! HIKE OUT HARD WHEN BREEZES WAIL! WE DON'T GRIND AND WE DON'T TAIL, WE FIGHT THE HEEL FROM ON THE RAIL! WEIGHT TO WEATHER, LEGS OUT WIDE, HUMAN BALLAST OFF THE SIDE! NO SHEET TO TRIM, NO COURSE TO STEER, JUST PUT OUR ARSES OVER HERE! [Verse 2: faster, tack sequence] "READY ABOUT!" We know the drill, Time to cross and climb the hill. Move on time, it's smooth and neat, Straight across to windward seat. Move too late, the boat heels through, Now the mountain comes to you. What was level starts to rise, Up you scramble, un-dignified. Knees and elbows, grab the rail, Drag your ballast up the trail. Cross on time, it's core-e-ography... [Harmony] Cross too late? ... MOUNTAINEERING! [Verse 3: intense fiddle, rapid foot stomp] Forward rail gets pride of place, First to take the spray full-face. Bow comes down and meets a wave, Guess which sailors it will bathe. Wall of water, cold and green, Rail meat forms a splash-screen. Crew behind stays mostly dry... [ALL: Harmony] We took Lake Ontario in the eye. [Baritone] No cape. No shield. No battle cry. Just waterproof pants and nowhere to hide. [Harmony] SPRAY TO WEATHER! SPRAY TO LEE! SOMEHOW ALL OF IT HITS ME! [Chorus: bigger harmony] MEAT ON THE RAIL! MEAT ON THE RAIL! SOAKED AND SALTY, STILL WE SAIL! WE DON'T GRIND AND WE DON'T TAIL, WE FIGHT THE HEEL FROM ON THE RAIL! [Hook] WEIGHT TO WEATHER, LEGS OUT WIDE, HUMAN BALLAST OFF THE SIDE! BOW SPRAY COMING? HOLD ON TIGHT! WE'LL BE WET THE REST OF THE NIGHT! [Verse 4: instruments become ominously quiet] There are fittings on the deck, Built for ropes and kept in spec. Blocks and winches, foresail cars, Now there's one beneath your ARSE... [Silence] [Harmony] BUTT CLEAT! BUTT CLEAT! MOVE YER ARSE! SHIFT YER SEAT! [ALL] WE'RE BRUISED OF THIGH AND NUMB OF FEET, NO ONE WANTS ANOTHER CLEAT! ...BUTT... [beat] [silence] [All] ... WE ALL SALUTE THE BLOODY BUTT CLEAT! [Beat] [Silence] [Baritone] "I see what you did there.." [Verse 5: mock indignation] They call us ballast, call us weight, Then scream for more when heel gets great. "No one's moving! Hike out MORE!!!" Apparently we're useful after all. No winch handle in our hand, No great tactical command. No one asks us where to steer, Just move your arse from here to here. But every kilo weather-side Adds its moment to the fight. We don't pull the ropes, you see... [All] We pull against GRAVITY!! [Baritone: Spoken] Well Technically, gravity pulls AGAINST US. [Silence] [High Lead: Spoken] Way to Ruin the moment Einstein. [Bridge: stripped, mock heroic] We ask no glory, ask no fame, Few will even know our name. No polished winch beneath our hand, No grand command across the land. We simply sit where we are told, In driving spray and bloody cold. And when the boat begins to heel... [Harmony] WE MOVE OUR ARSES UP THE RAIL! [Hook: Footsteps, loud] TACK IS COMING! MOVE YOUR MEAT! CROSS THE BOAT! FIND YOUR SEAT! SPRAY IS COMING! DUCK YOUR HEAD! [Silence] [Harmony] I'd rather stand instead. [Harmony] Sit yer Arse on the rail!! HIKE! HOLD! LEAN! REPEAT! [Final Chorus: maximum harmony] MEAT ON THE RAIL! MEAT ON THE RAIL! HIKE OUT HARD WHEN BREEZES WAIL! WE DON'T GRIND AND WE DON'T TAIL, WE FIGHT THE HEEL FROM ON THE RAIL! WEIGHT TO WEATHER, LEGS OUT WIDE, HUMAN BALLAST OFF THE SIDE! TACK COMES THROUGH? THEN MOVE THE MEAT! MISS YOUR CHANCE? CLIMB TO YOUR SEAT! SPRAY IN FRONT AND CLEATS BELOW, NOW YOU KNOW WHERE HEROES GO! NO SHEET TO TRIM, NO COURSE TO STEER, JUST PUT OUR ARSES OVER HERE! [Outro: instruments settle] [Low Harmony] Tack coming. [All] MOVE THE MEAT! [Footsteps] [concertina flourish] [End]
