Itís not much good for screwing any more;
But thereís a head or two that might be turned
Whose worn-out notches fit its broken blade.
Although itís rarely what Iím reaching for,
Itís come in handy now so often I have learned
To trust the strength from which the thing was made.
And sometimes, after I have had a drink
Or two or three, I hold it out and think
That though itís old, abused, infirm and rough,
For all itís done its flaws are few enough.
My strength is as the strength of eight --
My heart is nearly pure.
Last edited by Marcus Bales : 06-28-2007 at 07:18 AM.