Keith S**** photographed in his heyday atop a telegraph pole yesterday

W e are only God's Poor Orphans
But we do our level best.
to keep you all connected and in touch.

In the winter wires are frozen
and we seldom get much rest,
But we don't complain; well, not very much.

We know we're in the service of our monarch
King or Queen.
It's an honour, not a job, so do you see.
That her majesty's the boss, the best boss ever been.

On that all God's Poor Orphans will agree.
We will keep the wires singing,
'Cos you know "It's good to talk"

Keep the tidings winging.
'Quicker to 'phone than to walk'
Greetings merry, news that's sad,
We'll convey them good or bad.

And know at last we did our job
We did it for honour not for a few bob.
We'll end our service with a contented sigh.
And depart for that great Telephone Exchange in the sky.

Poem by Society Honorary Technical Adviser, Keith S****