forth bridge

Upon the waters deep and wide, Where salt spray meets the rushing tide, There stands a giant, bold and bright, A wonder in the morning light. With steel arms reaching to the sky, It watches as the years go by, A bridge of iron, red and grand, Connecting up the Scottish land. Long years ago, in days of old, A story of this bridge was told. The engineers began to dream Of crossing over wind and stream. Sir John and Benjamin, they planned To build the strongest in the land, To stand against the winter gale And carry on the iron rail. The rivets flew, the hammers rang, As iron workers worked and sang. They climbed the heights so very tall, With nothing there to break a fall. The "Briggars" worked through cold and rain, Through bone-deep chill and heavy strain, To pin the plates of steel in place And give the bridge its sturdy face. Three giant towers, firm and square, Hold up the weight against the air. The cantilever, strong and true, Was something that the world found new. A balance held by weight and chain, To carry every heavy train, It proved that man could conquer space With symmetry and iron grace. The color is a famous hue, Against the sky of gray or blue. "Forth Bridge Red," the people say, They paint it almost every day. A job that never seemed to end, Around each joint and every bend, To keep the rust and salt away And keep the bridge in fine display. Down in the dark and muddy bed, The caissons filled the men with dread. They worked beneath the river floor, To build the base and something more. The foundations deep, in rock and clay, Support the weight that stands today. Though many lives were lost to time, The bridge remains in its prime. When steam was king and smoke was black, The engines roared upon the track. They crossed the firth with heavy load, Upon this high and iron road. From Edinburgh to lands up north, They traveled safely o'er the Forth, No longer fearing wind or wave, Because of what the builders gave. The years have turned to centuries now, But still it wears its iron brow. A monument to grit and skill, It stands against the winter chill. The modern world moves fast and strange, But some things never truly change; The rivets hold, the steel is fast, A masterpiece built long to last. The tourists come from far and wide, To see it from the water side. They marvel at the giant beams, The realization of old dreams. It is a crown upon the coast, The thing of which the locals boast, A symbol of a golden age, Written on history’s turning page. So when you see those arches red, Remember all the things we’ve said. Of men who climbed the foggy height, And worked into the dark of night. Of steel and stone and Scottish pride, That conquered every swirling tide. The Forth Bridge stands, and always will, A giant heart that’s beating still.