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(After tunnelling through a basement
cinder block wall to insulate the exposed
water main pipe under the front porch.)

When the pipes froze in our house,
   Two winters in a row,
We thank Thee that they didn’t burst
   But thawed out nice and slow.

We thank Thee for the chisel
   And Grampa's ball-peen hammer
And for all classic cinema
   Where men dig out the slammer,

For Welsh-Midwestern shoulders
   Inured to most hard knocks
That can swing a pick and shovel
   Yet still slip through cinder blocks.

We thank Thee we can whistle
   Which helps one to feel brave
When standing under a front porch
   As in an open grave.

We thank Thee for the shovel,
   Head lamp, and no splinters,
And for this heaping mound of fill
   That'll last a hundred winters.

We thank Thee for the good earth’s
    Successful excavation
Through which Thou provided
    Thy path to insulation.