Muckers

Twenty men stand watching the muckers.
Stabbing the sides of the ditch
Where clay gleams yellow,
Driving the blades of their shovels
Deeper and deeper for the new gas mains
Wiping sweat off their faces
With red bandanas
The muckers work on .. pausing .. to pull
Their boots out of suckholes where they slosh.

Of the twenty looking on
Ten murmer, “O, its a hell of a job,”
Ten others, “Jesus, I wish I had the job.”

by Carl Sandburg

Other poems of SANDBURG (456)

Comments (1)

I read this one 50 years ago. Still remembered the name and just looked it up. Yes, I wish i could still do a job like that.