Shining Axe Poem
I wander through the wild wood-land Where the great oak trees stand As the trees dance and swing The gentle wind does calmly sing Its beautiful song of peace But then suddenly; the tune does cease Something is terribly wrong In the forest, strong Here come men into the land Shining axes in each hand With their axes they chop and thump Until every tree becomes a stump And as the trees do crack and splinter They leave the wood like a heath in winter I stagger through the naked wood Where the great oak trees stood.
