Heaved
Heavy work as we heave the logs home,
Everyday more backbreaking work to be done,
A day's work never finished until dusk,
Veins pumping as we work ourselves into the ground,
English Oaks felled and heaved out to the sawmill,
Days of work still needing to be done.
By Christopher Tye
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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