The Axeman

High on the hills, where the tall trees grow,

There lives an axeman that I know.

From his little hut by a ferny creek,

Day after day, week after week,

He goes each morn with his shining axe,

Trudging along by the forest tracks;

And he chops and he chops    till the daylight

High on the hills, where the blue-gum grows.(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip! . .

Chop!)There's a log to move and a branch to lop.

Now to the felling!  His sharp axe

Into a tree on the forest heights,

And scarce for a breath does the axeman stop-(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip! . .

Chop!)Bell-birds watch him; and in the

Wallabies listen awhile, and

Back through the bracken, and off they hop.(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip! . -.

Chop!)Patient and tireless, blow on

The axeman swings as the minutes go;

While the echoes ring from the mountain-top.(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip! . .

Chop!)Round about him the. rabbits play,

Skipping and scampering all the day,

And the sweet young grass by the logs they crop.(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip! . .

Chop!)Crimson parrots above him climb,

The

Chattering, chattering all the time,

As down from the branches the twigs they drop.(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip!          Chop!)Steadily, surely, on he goes,

Shaking the tree with his mighty blows:

There's never a pause and there's never a stop.(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip! . .

Chop!)Out from the bush beyond is

The swaggering song of the

Seeking a joint for his butcher's shop.(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip! . .

Chop!)Deeper and deeper the cut creeps in,

While the parrots shriek with a deafening din,

And the chips fly out with a flip and a flop.(Chip!    Chop!      Chip!      Chop!)Yellow robins come  flocking round,

Watching the chips  as they fall to ground,

Darting to catch the g ubs that drop.(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip!    . .

Chop!)The blows come quicker.

The  axe~biade hums,

Stand well back, there, before she comes!

Hark!

How the splinters crack and pop-(Chip! . .

Chop! . .

Chip! . .

Chop!)Listen!  Listen!  She's creaking now!

Look, high up, at that trembling bough!

Another second, and down she'll smash,

Shaking the earth with a mighty crash;

Look at her!

Look at her! (Chip!      Chop!

Chip! . . . . . . . .

Chip!)              Wee - E - E - E - E - E —

OP!