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In cuttin' and haulin', in frost an' in snow,
We're up against troubles that few people know,
And 'tis only by patience with courage and grit
And eatin' plain food that we keep ourselves fit ;
The hard an' the aisey we takes as it comes?
When the pond freezes over we shortens our runs.
To hurry my hauling, the spring coming on,
Near lost my fine mare in on Tickle Cove Pond.
I knew that the ice became weaker each day,
All this I ignored with a whip?handle blow,
I raised an alarm you could hear for a mile,
There was no time for thinking, No time for delay,
Contributed by Martha Warren
Page Revised: July 2002 (Don Tate)
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