The iron cages stalk the land
They walk on metal, rock, and wood
The cold pervades and burns me now
The thunder loud and smoke adrift
But I retain my craft and charm
And trees still bend to serve my will
The cages halt within my land
Afeared of branches underfoot
I find the headman in the grass
"Pray tell your name, my goodly sire?"
"The engineer is who I am"
I waited, but he said no more
"An offer I would like to make-"
"You'll need to find the office, son"
"I'm sure it could be worth your time..."
"It matters not, I'm on the clock"
A whistle blew, and he leapt up
Once more within the iron womb
I stood alone; the cold remained.