Lengths of scaffolding
Bonging like tuning forks,
Grumbling barrows
Rumbling out over the ramps,
Sun-tanned, shirtless workmen singing,
Pulley ropes from high windows swinging,
The bursts of a drill
That churns and chews and champs,
One day will be
Number 1,2,3,
Houses quiet as neighbours
In a sheet of stamps.