I Will Return a Steam Shovel
When I am old and gray I wish to die quite far away.
To be reincarnated as soon as I am able to come back.
And to be a steam shovel in my next life, and hey,
I want to be powerful, with steam, not a hack.
As a steam shovel I will chomp into the grass.
Chewing it up in large gulps, leaving square holes.
People will come around and watch in mass.
Awed that I am so powerful and meet my goals.
They will call me steamy, and they will fear me too.
I will be gobbling up yards as quickly as anything they have seen.
The children will cheer when they see me in my metal blue.
I will be strong and quick, effective, but never mean.
Yes, when I am old and gray, I will not fear my death at all.
For I know I will be coming back in a glorious non-dream.
I will be lithe, and lean, smartly painted and rather tall.
Best of all, everyone will applaud when they see my steam.