I make men scream o’er stony ways,
In screeching sharps and trebles,
And make them swear in maddened rage,
When slipping on the pebbles.
With many a twinge their soles I fret,
Soles arched and soles built shallow,
And many an imprecation get
From lips with pain grown sallow.
I shatter comfort as I grow,
The best of tempers shiver,