A poor farmhand says goodbye to his weeping wife and sets out to kill a creature. He leaves behind sons who need feeding and a daughter who needs a marriage, so the stakes are clear: he is doing this for his family, and he may not come back. The poem follows him as he rides away, smells death in the air, hears a cry in the dark, and finally spots the creature's shining cloak among the old oak vines.
The refrain, "The scrawny farmhand / Leaves for the kill," repeats in every stanza, shifting to "Moves for the kill" once he nears the lair. That repetition feels like a drumbeat, pulling him forward no matter how afraid he is. The word "scrawny" stresses how small and unlikely a hero he is. The title, "The Proletariat," suggests the poem is also about ordinary working people who are sent to face dangers that bigger, more powerful figures avoid. The mood is tense and grim, with a quiet sense of courage mixed with dread.