Oil

Round and Round,
Goes my toil.
Gears are dry,
And needs some oil.

Squeaking loud,
And missing points.
Zig-Zaging out,
To touch my joints.

Cogs jump out,
As I jump in.
And around I go,
To take a spin.

Faster and faster,
Is the motion we need.
Tis the touch of lubrication,
That brings full speed.

And when the body is tired,
Unable to toil.
Let love be the ointment,
And rest be the oil.


E.P. 1908 - 1989