The Man of Men

John Sullivan, a man among men Digging digging, deep as can't show Laying the dirt, for him for his home The king's castle, for stature of stone Caterpillars, creeping the low crest Creeping writhing, creeping for his heart They don't have far, a far journey's climb So he crushes, crushes them on down He can't crush far, a few inches deep Pushing ploughing, his foundation weak Hushing hushing, a few inches deep So they stop slight, gathering their force He doesn't see, magnitude and strength Crushing them so, to his own expense He doesn't see, they will not let him He's clawing in, deep through his own skin Caterpillars, creeping the low crest Bursting blowing, from concealed caccoons Cascading out, though a starving soul Leaving a dark valley of husks John Sullivan, a man among men Digging digging, deep as can't show Laying the dirt, for him for his home The king's grave, for stature of sand