TWO TRAMPS IN MUD TIME
(The third stanza brings to mind my own April poem, the first I chose for this year, and so closes the circle.)
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Out of the mud two strangers came
And caught me splitting wood in the yard,
And one of them put me off my aim
By hailing cheerily "Hit them hard!"
I knew pretty well why he had dropped behind
And let the other go on a way.
I knew pretty well what he had in mind:
He wanted to take my job for pay.
Good blocks of oak it was I split,