Long hard day is gone and over.
Heading home over the rise
to wash all grime and the sores.
Cramming a log into the belly of the iron
he goes and pumps the water.
Stripping off his grime and slime
the kettle let's a whistle beller.
Pouring the water into the trough
he slides down into its comfort
the grime disintegrateing.
Feet dangling over the side
as he relaxs away
the long hard day.
Reaching around he finds the soap
as he scrubs the grime away.
Buzzing all around his tub
as the flies float on a breeze.