Oh, I'm just a poor gaffer,
That's all that I be,
'Cause I loves me the hot glass,
It's heaven to me.

I huffs and I puffs
And the air starts to flow,
And the glass that I breath to
Commences to grow.

It gets,
Big,
Big,
Better,
Big, big, better it grows
'Cause I loves me the hot glass
Like bees love the rose.

Oh, I've been a poor gaffer
For many a year,
A workin' the hot glass,
Bright orange and clear.

I blows it and molds it
And shapes it real good,
I probably loves that stuff
More than I should.

It gets,
Big,
Big,
Better,
Big, big, better it grows,
'Cause I loves me the hot glass
Like bees love the rooooose.