Carl Sandburg (1878–1967). Chicago Poems. 1916.
18. Muckers
T
Stabbing the sides of the ditch
Where clay gleams yellow,
Driving the blades of their shovels
Deeper and deeper for the new gas mains
Wiping sweat off their faces
With red bandanas
The muckers work on .. pausing .. to pull
Their boots out of suckholes where they slosh.
Ten murmer, “O, its a hell of a job,”
Ten others, “Jesus, I wish I had the job.”