Here a solemn fast we keep,
While all beauty lies asleep;
Hushed be all things, no noise here,
But the toning of a tear,
Or the sigh of such as bring
Cowslips for her covering.
by Shel Silverstein
Well I was sittin' up in my crane leftin' boulders in the rain
Can't get promoted no matter what I do
Ah when the forman he comes around and he yells up from the ground