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John Smith Williams

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Member Since: Jun, 2003

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Popular Poetry (Memoir)
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by John Smith Williams
Saturday, November 15, 2003

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Recent poems by John Smith Williams
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Second in a series of Tales from the Bush.
A cord of wood is a stack of timber, pices of cut loga , called bolt, piled in a stack 8ft long, 4 ft high by dour feet wide. Weight about 30cwt depending on the type of wood..

The Mall was a large wooden mallet used to drive the wedges into to ;arge logs to split them apart


My father was an axeman, nearly all his life,
His skill at cutting timber, helped him support his wife,
He really was an expert in the art of falling trees
The sound of his axe was heard far and wide,
carried on the breeze,

He worked along the ridges and down along the glen,
It was all solid labour, no fancy chain saws then,
Just his axe sharp as a razor,a mall and wedges too,
One man out in the forest, he'd show what he could do.
Often cutting cord word, he'd be there all on his own,
Two cord a day for not much pay, little money he'd bring home,
Just enough to keep the wolf away , he'd oft say with a grin
Working there in the heat of day , we could all depend on him,

Stringy bark and box gum were his favorite trees,
He'd drop them oh so esily, exactly where he pleased,
Trimming all the branches into a tidy heap,
Measured lengths of timber stacked in a cord so neat,

Six days a week he laboured thus, to keep the family fed
He often said 'twas the only thing that kept a
roof above our heads,
Times were tough in depression years work was hard to get
At least he made a living, the bills were always met.

In latter years we often pondered about the early days,
Life seemed so much simpler then, despite the tougher ways,
The work was hard , but we had our health, to the Lord we gave our praise
For the Blessings we were thankful, for, in those early days

John W 17/11/03

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Reviewed by Ed Matlack 12/27/2003
Always wanted to write something about my dad, but seems all I can remember are the bad times and I would prefer not to, so much for a poem on him...your dad sounds as if he was a guy not to be triffled with, and yourself, in your bio, u are not much smaller than he was I will bet! Peace and keep up the great writes, Ed & Rufuz
Reviewed by Kate Clifford 11/16/2003
When man cut the tree's in order to survive all was well. Its when the machines came in that things went nuts. Yea I know I am playing on a computer.

Thank you for such a wonderful sharing of your father. You introduce the reader to your father in a very gentle, but strong way with a smile. Great write.
Reviewed by Robin Spicer 11/16/2003
Very well written John. I can remember Buying my Iron bark by the cord.
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