Some days my job I hate And I feel second rate On days when the frigid cold Makes my young body old Frozen hoses, iced up tanks, extra hay All conspire to add hours to my day Meetings cause me to sputter And pain makes me mutter And on top of extra hours of work Mother Nature becomes a jerk I find the old hog dying Beside where she is lying A wall of ice I must erect So that no emotions I detect It keeps me from coming undone For Death’s lieutenant I become As a