Monday, September 7, 2009

Hard Work

About Searsport, ME, unloading tapioca flour, about 1968.


If there are curses left unuttered
At least I know I've tried;
And when the curses didn't help
I prayed until I cried.

Oh stalwart men were working
In that ship's darkened hold
Loading cargo ton by ton
And shrugging off the cold.

But I was cold and tired
A stripling lad, no more,
My will had flagged, I wanted
But to rest, to go ashore.

I couldn't lift another bag
I swore I wouldn't try
I prayed for strength to go ahead
Even if I'd die.

The others worked without a wince
As if it all was fun;
And I worked on, but suffering,
Until the job was done.

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