A gold mining poem........... sort of.

This day started out with so much promise, but ended in almost total disaster. Rehashing the days events would be to hard on my damaged psyche, so I have summed it up in a short poem.

Up in tree, mouth agape with wonder.
Hair on fire clothes asunder.
Moments before digging gold was he.
With hands and pick marrily.
Long buried pipe did crack
Due to over eager shovel wack.
Out flows gass with quiet hiss.
Gold fever struck miner thinks nought's amiss.
If left alone much gold he might get.
To bad he lit a cigarette.