One Last Score

Shallow minutes grind my pepper
Dried and sliced and keen
Tuppence, farthing, metal stepper
Ladder-fine canteen

Eat among your besting betters
On the tide arise
Let them eat your heavy fetters
As you bide your eyes

Then we'll make it to the door
By the slingshot path
Elliptical and rounded corner
Escape is only math

After outs there must be guilt
By our culture creed
Back upriver hauling silt
Back to whence we seed