the lamp burned in my little room
above the silent stable
i looked out in the winter gloom
as well as i was able
no bird disturbed the brooding night
or horses hoofed the road
no angel at the window
offered to share my load
*
in an icy wintry blast
as the snow was falling fast
i went out to milk the cow
and tripped over the plow
that the lazy hired man
who since the world began
had been sleeping on his feet
without missing a beat
had left there in the gloom
to hasten me to doom
and he laughed in his dream
floating down a shady stream
where an apple cheeked lass
winked at him as he went past
and i lay in the mud
in the mud, in the cold mud
*
silas martin picked an apple
but didn't feel like eating it
sarah jenkins shook a rug
but didn't feel like beating it
everything that moves
moves at its own pace
sometimes nothing moves at all
upon the earth's dark face
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