"The Mole's Complaint"
"Why am I down this dark hole?"
said the blind mole to the grub.
"Because it's your dark hole,"
said the deferential grub.
"Then what are you doing here?"
asked the discontented mole.
"O I just dug by to dig you, dude,"
Replied the grubby little troll.
"I want to be a prairie dog,"
moaned the blind mole to the worm.
"You'll always be a dog to me,"
said the worm with a little squirm.
"I want to see and run as free,"
scowled the petulant slow mole.
"Well, I wanted to be a bee,"
but see what happened to me."
"This is a dark and miserable life,"
droned the blind mole to the root.
"Tell me about it, Hon,"
said the exasperated root.
"I wish I were fruit falling from a tree,"
mused the mole as if he could see.
"What's fruit?" asked the root, "And what's a tree?
And is it dark down here, or is it just me?"
"I want to be a gazelle, an eagle,"
wept the blind mole to the grave.
But the grave did not answer.
"Fine. Be like that," shrugged the mole,
"See if I care." But then he cursed
the silent grave: "May my words be
a spade, and may they dig your grave
forever in the cemetery of my heart."
