HIS WORK My loverís work leaves me distraught: he cheats me with his crafty tools. Their cunning matches the maiden wood while my heart sinks and my belly yearns. I know a saw when I see one! -- its teeth bite one behind another. The wimble pricks, the auger bores, the screw thirls in under the screw-driver. The hammer drives down: blow by blow the nail goes in, making its own hole. With tine and hole and a curled shaving, (O father, son and holy ghost,) my lover had a lizard that lost its tail: but luckily the tail grew on again.