There were trees the size of basketballs that grew from twixt the blocks
And vines, of varying degrees of life, entwining the hand lain rocks
And water trickled and sometimes spewed through the copious spouting holes
So, they told us, “Boys, go clean it off and take care to break no bones.”
And, it was climb boys climb, across the face of them blocks
Once you get all this tangle off, we’ll redeem this pile of rocks.
So, off we went across the face of that vertical thicket, dense
Swinging power saws and various manual cutting instruments.
Though all the while we were conscious of the perilous rocks below,
We cut them oaks and sweet gum trees and dropped ‘em down the hole.
And it was balance boys balance, take care to control your feet.
There’s broken bones or likely worse if you slip and follow those trees.
So we cleaned the back of Bethel like the day the blocks were laid,
And then across the top we cut the vines and brush away.
On the day that we were done with her, that old dam really shined,
And they told us, ” boys get off her now and we’ll spray her down with gunite.”
And it was down boys down, get down off Bethel’s rack,
And, I hope I’m long retired before them vines and trees grow back.
Copyright C R Clark 1/13/08
A real storyteller, that's what you are and a great story it is. A great tongue roller, and good flow to boot. Excellent write. Thoroughly enjoyed it. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
Well structured ballad with interesting, unusual rhymes such as 'dense' and 'instruments.' Good job.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A fascinating poem and story Richard! Brilliant imagery, a pleasure indeed to read! *10*! ! Best regards, Friend Thad