View from Keldas

Mrs Sisyphus (by Carol Ann Duffy)

That's him pushing the stone up the hill, the jerk.
I call it a stone - it's nearer the size of a kirk.
When he first started out, it just used to irk,
but now it incenses me, and him, the abolute berk.
I could do something vicious to him with a dirk.

Think of the perks, he says.
What use is a perk, I shriek,
when you haven't the time to pop open a cork
or go for so much as a walk in the park?
He's a dork.
Folk flock from miles around just to gawk.
They think it's a quirk,
a bit of a lark.
A load of old bollocks is nearer the mark.
He might as well bark
at the moon -
that feckin' stone's no sooner up
than it's rolling back
all the way down.
And what does he say?
Mustn't shirk -
keen as a hawk,
lean as a shark
Musn't shirk!