Be set ... Axe in hand
Be laid true aim
Laying claim to each new grain;
All of what will be of worth
With each chop ... Each new chop's birth
Each bead of sweat! Be of honest works ...
Again & Again; Harrowed-Hell of truthful burst
And may they someday fall with an honoured toast
As Love of Axeman's, labored boast
So; Precious from the tree were hewn,
Of whittled likeness; flattened spoon
Be now they gently rowed in harmony
Slowly dipped through all of rippled scene
Free cleansing row of once tree'd crows ...
In paddled flight of patterned mow!
And bathe in opened water "scene"
Kept damp and moist ... Almost weeping be;
They cry? Waving "bye" ... The line of tree-
"Once Sawn" Way back ... Past a way once hacked
Tells long a story to a slashed stilled bay
Ahhhhh! This; be such as peace,
Floating freedoms newly found
Of once a Maple's stump had bound
All grains a story's tell of once was dealt;
All of what Precision'd plunder once been felt...
Axeman! ... Remembered be his accurate pelt
So often told? ... Whittled fine a paddles tale
Told smoothly ‘cross the gunwales rail
While slicing rippled bu*tered aqua tones
In a "Rhythm'd" music's metronome
And with little effort sings ...
Sings' buoyant song of one fell tree
Such delightful stroke of tempo be ...
Gently stirring forth a softly breeze,
While soaked grained ballads,
Ply their roam,
Sung through open water's way;
Given now their home
To which they stay
Precision'd paddle of;
One fine, an Axeman's day