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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374816" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Trucker</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">IF YOU want a game to tame you and to take your measure in,<br>Try a week or two of trucking in a mine<br>Where the rails are never level for a half-a-minute’s spin,<br>And the curves are short and sharp along the line.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Try the feverish bottom level, down five hundred feet of shaft,<br>Where the atmosphere is like a second suit,<br>When the wash is full of water, and you’ve got to run the graft,<br>For there’s forty ton of gravel in the shoot.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Want a job o’ truckin’, dost tha?’ says the boss, old Geordie Rist,<br>Shift’s a trucker short, ma lad, but aw don’ know—<br>Can’st tha do th’ work, though, think’st tha? Art a pretty decent fist?<br>Eh, well, damme! thoo can try it; go below.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So the cage is manned, the knocker clangs and clatters on the brace,<br>The engine draws a deep, defiant breath<br>To inflate her lungs of iron; and in silence, face to face,<br>We drop into the darkness deep as death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then a fairy sense of lightness and of floating on the night,<br>A sudden glare, and Number Three is passed;<br>Soon a sound of warring waters and another rush of light—<br>‘All clear!’ The up-trip never seems so fast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is rough upon the tyro, that first tussle with the trucks—<br>The wretched four, with worn, three-cornered wheels<br>That are sure to fall to his lot and to floor him if his pluck’s<br>Not true when mates are grinding at his heels.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the struggle at the incline, and the deuced ticklish squeeze<br>At the curves where strength alone not all avails,<br>And the floundering in the mullock, and the badly-broken knees<br>Before he learns to run upon the rails.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But it’s like all other grafting, and the man that has the grit<br>Won’t tucker out with one back-racking shift;<br>When he’s sweated to condition, with his muscles firm and fit,<br>He’ll disdain to stick at seven trucks of drift.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He can swarm around the pinches with a scramble and a dash,<br>And negotiate the inclines just as pat;<br>And the sheets of iron rattle and the waters surge and splash<br>As he shoots the 'full ’uns' in along the plat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the empties wind and clatter down the drive and through the dark—<br>As ‘blowing’ spells those backward journeys serve—<br>On before, deep set in darkness, glints and glows a feeble spark,<br>The candle burning dimly at the curve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">After cribs are polished off, and when the smoke begins to rise<br>And cling about the caps and in the cracks,<br>There’s a passing satisfaction in the patriarchal lies<br>Of the Geordie pioneers and Cousin Jacks—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lanky Steve’s unwritten stories of the fun of Fifty-two,<br>Or the dashing days at Donkey Woman’s Flat,<br>Of traps, and beaks, and heavy yields, and pugilists put through,<br>And lifting up the flag at Ballarat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, the truckers’ toil is rather heavy grafting as a rule—<br>Much heavier than the wages, well I know;<br>But the life’s not full of trouble, and the fellow is a fool<br>Who cannot find some pleasure down below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374816" data-title="The Trucker de Edward George Dyson" data-description="IF YOU want a game to tame you and to take your measure in,
Try a week or two of trucking in a mine
Where the rails are never level for a half-a-minute’s spin,
And the curves are short and sharp along the line.

Try the feverish bottom level, do..."></div>
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