A man with muscles oh so strong
was pulling a heavy weighted cart along,
along the road passing a crag,
not knowing jag, but wanting to brag,
wonting for lrics of song to sing,
oft inclined to jargoning,
deliberating colloquially,
whistling jovially,
following a straight line,
not as much as pausing to dine,
thanking God for the day he was born,
passing the time on that sunny morn,
not wanting for a dime his pockets to adorn,
not concerned 'bout bread nor corn,
momentarily entranced by a bleating foghorn,
seemingly oblivious of his shirt so torn
progessing slowly though feeling forlorn,
greeting all with smiles, not scorn.
