There was a time when I had two arms,
But it got in the way, and had to go.
Out on the farm my little brother ran,
All around and back again.
Then came a shake and a stir,
And all that followed the noise was his faint whisper.
I found him wedged beneath some machinery,
So I picked it up and helped him out.
Oh, but though he fled to safety,
For me there wasn’t a doubt,
That as the weight overcame me,
My arm would fall prey,
On that warm September day,
And all my father could say,
Was “you did good son; I’m sorry it turned out this way.”