Tundra

This ground is too hard to break, it ruined a pick and spade, frozen and
solid as rock, my hands numb with the shock! I am prepared for the dirty
work, I've groveled for years in the bloody dirt, I have all the tools
that I need, and now I admit my defeat! What will it take to cleave this
earth? Break this ground, it's got to break! What will it take to cleave
this earth? I cannot wait 'til spring. My cargo is still half alive,
they twine 'round eachother and cry, they beg me to finish the task,
will I inter them at last? I glare at the place I'd make a grave, I
carry the shame it would contain, thinking cannot rend a hole, too tired
to stave off the cold.