DUMB-BELLS left, dumb-bells right, <br />Swing them hard, grip them tight! <br />Thirty fat men of the town <br />Must sweat their filthy paunches down. <br />Dripping sweat and pumping blood <br />They try to make themselves like God. <br /> <br /> <br />One and two, three and four, <br />Cleave the air and smite the floor! <br />Five and six, seven and eight, <br />Legs apart, shoulders straight! <br />Thirty fat men grunt and puff, <br />Thirty bellies plead, Enough! <br /> <br /> <br />Dumb-bells up, dumb-bells down, <br />Dumb-bells front, dumb-bells ground! <br />Thirty's God has just the girth <br />To pull the levers of the earth, <br />They made him sinewy and lean <br />And washed him glittering white and clean. <br /> <br /> <br />Dumb-bells in, dumb-bells out, <br />Count by fours and face about! <br />Put by dumb-bells for to-day, <br />Wash the stinking sweat away <br />And go out clean. But come again; <br />Worship's every night at ten.<br /><br />John Crowe Ransom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dumb-bells/
