You and me both Paul!
Sorry for your loss GT
Yeah, I hope so. I put him a package in the post the other day, so hope it finds him well
Fascinating hobby my friend
I was listening to a radio programme on this subject just the other day. They reckoned that everyone used to sing in the past, but the noisy mills and factories killed the work song here, except in one or two places where they loved to sing so much, folks sang even though they could not even hear themselves. Here is a song by the Sheffield cutler's favourite 'poet', Joseph Mather (born 1837), who wrote this song about the gaffer who first demanded cutlers delivered 13 knives to the dozen (George Wostenholm would later push it to 14). Every cutler in the town knew the words, even some still alive today.
This monster oppression behold how he stalks,
Keeps picking the bones of the poor as he walks,
There's not a mechanic throughout this whole land
But more or less feels the weight of his hand;
That offspring of tyranny, baseness and pride,
Our rights hath invaded and almost destroyed
May that man be banished who villainy screens:
Or sides with big Watkinson with his thirteens
Chorus:
And may the odd knife his great carcass dissect,
Lay open his vitals for men to inspect,
A heart full as black as the infernal gulf,
In that greedy, blood sucking, bone scraping wolf.
This wicked dissenter, expelled his own church,
Is rendered the subject of public reproach:
Since reprobate marks on his forehead appeared,
We all have concluded his conscience is seared:
See mammon his god, and oppression his aim,
Hark! how the streets ring with his infamous name,
The boys at the playhouse exhibit strange scenes
Respecting big Watkinson with his thirteens.
Chorus
Like Pharaoh for baseness, that type of the de'il,
He wants to flog journeymen with rods of steel,
And certainly would, had he got Pharaoh's power,
His heart is as hard, and his temper as sour;
But justice repulsed him and set us all free,
Like bond-slaves of old in the year jubilee.
May those be transported or sent for marines
That works for big Watkinson at his thirteens.
Chorus
We claim as true Yorkshire men leave to speak twice,
That no man should work for him at any price,
Since he has attempted our lives to enthral,
And mingle our liquor with wormwood and gall;
Beelzebub take him with his ill-got pelf,
He's equally bad, if not worse than thyself;
So shall every cutler that honestly means
Cry 'take away Watkinson with his thirteens.'
Chorus
But see foolish mortals! Far worse than insane,
Three fourths are returned into Egypt again;
Although Pharaoh's hands they had fairly escaped,
Now they must submit for their bones to be scraped;
Whilst they give themselves and their all for a prey
Let us be unanimous and jointly say,
Success to our sovereign who peaceably reigns,
But down with both Watkinson's twelves and thirteens.
And may the odd knife his great carcass dissect,
Lay open his vitals for men to inspect,
A heart full as black as the infernal gulf,
In that greedy, blood sucking, bone scraping wolf.
I doubt it ever sounded like this on the shop floor!
Nor when a few hundred Sheffield workers sang it to Watkinson personally from the cheap seats of Sheffield theatre!
It's made of the finest 1970s polyester, with Western styling (contrasting color on yoke, fake pearl snaps) but the print on the fabric is completely nautical! Maybe she wished for adventure, whether on the high desert or the high seas? At any rate, it's a real conversation piece! 
My daughter took a couple of photos with me holding a canoe (nautical) and a sowbelly stockman (Western). Here's one for all to enjoy:
let's just say I'm twice the man I used to be
Hope he's OK 
I'm glad you liked the song