Workers.

Workers.

The sacrificing pit bodies wrinkled to a siren song,

whoever assembles in this sphere of snares,

mad'ith into a sweating meat overcooked,

more trembling impressions stamped forth on thee scattered brain,

for grief is thou manuscript in sublunary noise,

how thy thresher eats thee weak in such waters tossed,

through lightning and weasels corrupt biddings born,

plunged in purgatory thy leprous machines chew,

both flesh and metal taken apart murmuring decay,

ofer ealne daeg and well into thy risen daegraed,

Edward Young should pen thee in stead,

demolition shapes stretched out to grab whirling cries,

in distracted imaginations a hammer disgusting blame,

O' derangement's a lurching misfortune on prolonged posture bent,

no emerging relief thy lurching machine must churn,

yells of discouragements from dismal characters dwells,

thy ineffable icy sweat pours from'st thee cavaliers parched on thous mourning hours,

words turn to blood scorning fists inflamed in a plague of pointing fingers,

many blamed in this stagnant tomb of fiery pain,

only a jesting madman with a wild imagination can joy in such a asylum,

thy blood soaked whistle burns a signal of short slumber,

till thee next wrathful bell rings forth a start of a new punishyng hell,

O'how thoust burns to thy quick, everlastyng henceforth and beyond!

Vikomt.D.Hammengoor.

Done