The woodcutter

Serene, placid in the morning sun,
It stood, like Atilla the Hun.
With the sweet allurements of a million fragrances,
It brought, even the katydids into trances.
Rising out, in the billowy wind,
The squirrels capered 'round it's midst.
A duty hath to be done, and it will.

A foul stench seeps the air,
'He' had appeared out of nowhere!
Work had taken it's toll on the man,
Imperative, to him, was the money to be had!
Stood there, did he glancing,
An entity of his utmost liking.
A duty hath to be done, and it will

Gleaming in the morning sun, it spooked,
A cold, emotionless carving of Wootz!
Earnestly waiting for its time to frolic,
While it chopped, in the hands of the Workaholic.
Nothing, could impede it's movement,
Not even he, fraught with discontent.
A duty hath to be done, and it will.

A sickening crack resounded all 'round,
A wail emanated, forever bound!
As the devil's incarnate struck,
With all its might , on the pitiable trunk.
The squirrels romped away in fright,
As the axe struck with all its might!
A duty hath to be done, and it will.

Where the gallant one hath stood before,
Remains of him lay in a furore.
The sickening contraption stood gleaming,
Smiling at his handiwork of evil.
The man lugged at his lumber,
Sold it at the jumble, for a dollar!
A duty hath to be done and it will!

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