Sard Dray~

'twas yet a simple dray bound broken plow.
The tumultuous wound upon longshank.
Hindered deep upon drye baren land now,
life, 'twas hard, ne'er a glee moment to bank.
Wielding lessons, yet more turmoil to come.
Burden burnt into our immortal soul.
Yet we oft' quake bedward 'for morrows' sun.
Glamerous wage deign thee ameree toll,
rewards art folly, pray for whence they come.
That's ends' meat, as simple as this red dirt.
Why doeth thine brow glisten, I'm mans sard son?
We tempt thine fate and wit' death thy flirt.
Chose to live a life so many may eat,
It yet begats ill fate thy son shall reap.