It seems to be payday again,
That to which my work's an end.
I may from penury defend
Myself a little longer.
Some food I soon can go to buy,
And tools, perhaps, with which to ply
My skills--if I have time to try
To make them a bit stronger.
But before then, I'll work again,
For my tasks do never end,
Nor do body's needs off tend
To lessen as life's longer.
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