Robert Frost Tackles the Blockage
I have been one acquainted with the shite
That gathers in the gloom of septic tanks
And shoulders-up the lid with foetid might.
I was the one selected from the ranks
To face the faeces, armed with only hope
And rubber gloves, a pair of scaffold planks,
A good stout stick, a bucket on a rope
And a technique passed down the family.
Human shadoof, I bent to dip and grope;
A thrusting-under and a hauling-free
Dropping the dollops from a dizzy height
Until I won my Pyrrhic victory.
No-one will stand downwind of me tonight.
I have been one acquainted with the shite.
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