Tundra

This ground is too hard to break, it ruined a pick and spade, frozen and

solid as rock, my hands numb with the shock! I am prepared for the dirty

work, I've groveled for years in the bloody dirt, I have all the tools

that I need, and now I admit my defeat! What will it take to cleave this

earth? Break this ground, it's got to break! What will it take to cleave

this earth? I cannot wait 'til spring. My cargo is still half alive,

they twine 'round eachother and cry, they beg me to finish the task,

will I inter them at last? I glare at the place I'd make a grave, I

carry the shame it would contain, thinking cannot rend a hole, too tired

to stave off the cold.