THE VILLAGE WOODMAN.
(With apologies to Mr. Longfellow.)
Under a spreading chestnut tree
The busy Gladstone stands;
Ever this restless W. G.
Has something on his hands.
O'er field or meadow, park or farm,
O'er clay or gravelly lands,
He takes the sharpened axe in hand
With tree-destroying plan;
His brow is wet with woodman's sweat,
He fells whate'er he can,
And looks the proud tree in the face,
And cleaves it like a man.
Week in, week out, from morn to night,
You can hear his hatchet's blow;
You can see him swing his heavy axe,
Resolved that tree shall go,
Like a workman labouring for his pay
When his funds are very low;
And tourists, wandering o'er the fields,
Look aghast at this woodman bold;
They shudder at the flashing axe,
And mark the upturned mould;
They see by the scattered chips that fly
That the woodman's strong though old.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And reads the lessons there.
To hear the parson pray and preach
Few to that church repair.
But reading in that village church
Makes the G. O. M. rejoice,
For he loves to hear his own sweet voice
In Church or Parliament.
But where'er he be he thinks of trees,
How many fallen lie,
And those who notice him may see
A twinkle in his eye.
Toiling, rejoicing, brandishing
His axe, thus on he goes;
Each morning sees some grand old tree,
Each evening sees its close;
Some branches felled, some trunk laid low—
And then he seeks repose.
Moonshine, January 19, 1884.
Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha certainly invites parody, and its easy metre is readily caught up by any one having an ordinarily good ear, and knack of versification. Consequently parodies of it abound; unfortunately they become somewhat wearisome in perusal from the monotonous diction, and some of the best only will be quoted at length.
The following, written by Mr. J. W. Morris, appeared in the Bath and Cheltenham Gazette shortly after the appearance of Longfellow's poem, and is interesting as giving an account of the feelings with which Hiawatha was first received:—