The Nature of Work

Man had Horse

He Loved

and said Old Girl

Here's my Shoulder,

Carry me Home!

And the Horse

Pushed that Cart

Best as One could

And neither They,

Nor the Carriage

Would move,

And the Babe

Puzzled over-

Hearing

The rattle

of Snake pits

Pockmarking

the Side of the

Main Avenue,

which Traverses

with such

Palmistry

as Each hand

and its Labour

might Produce

Cross the Ire

of the Lands,

As Luck would

Have the Woman

Planted a Hand

and Up from the

ground Sprung

a Fountain

of Water

and lo!

Then

the Whole

House Drank.