The copper pipes were old and worn

From years as water's guide.

From well to tub and sink and such

"Replace me" they all cried !

But time passed on without first-aid

And tiny holes appeared.

The leaks grew large without remorse

A problem often feared.

At last the day of massive flood

Arrived beneath the floor.

Repairs could not be overlooked

Another minute more.

And so the Sculptor grabbed his tools

And on his belly waded.

With snakes and spiders looking on

Their home was now invaded.

He cut the source of water off

Cut too, the pipe's bad limb.

This job seemed quick and small enough

A surprise awaited him !

The flux was gently painted on

The Artist smiled with pride.

The copper fittings glided in

All holes he soon would hide.

The flame from torch provided light

To see, and heat the Art.

The solder melted in its place

With skills from in his heart.

And now the test - the water on

His work, it held up well.

To his dismay, more leaks appeared

He'd entered plumbing hell !

So off he went, supplies to buy

And once again on belly crawled.

He measured, cut - caressed his work

Around him, tools were sprawled.

The hours passed, six in all

The blood and sweat, it poured.

But he emerged triumphant !

His fans - they all seemed bored.

"Who wants to see my Work of Art?"

His friends all turned away.

"Crawl 'neath your house in mud and murk?"

"Not now - another day !"

And so the Sculptor crawled again

To see his fine creation.

His Work of Art for no one's eyes