Rock Hard

Four and a half ton, unforgiving and cold, Hard rock he had to shift, Four and a half ton of rigid and round, So relentlessly futile to lift, Up the side of the cliff, alone by himself, No help from any machine, Every day of his life, he pushed at this rock, This struggle his daily routine, And, without him knowing, his work, rest and play, Had become a tragic sad fight, That beat him down, in an impossible match, A match that took all of his might, Till, by the end of his days, after giving his life, He stood, just bare skin and bone, And he turned around to his professional career, With a rock that was now his head stone.