The Woodsman

Under the Stars,
Out in the Bush,
A Woodsman’s cottage stands alone,
Over the Bridge,
Beyond the Tasmanian Oak,
A Woodman made his home,

He never ventures far now,
He never ventures out too long,
He keeps himself warm by burning salvage,
keeps himself warm by singing song.
And placed in place,
In pride of place,
Above the fireplace
His axe hangs,
Unused…

Under the Stars,
Out in the Bush,
By the dried-up Creek and Billabong.
Over the Bridge,
Beyond The Tasmanian Oak,
A woodman worked and sang his song,

And as he caught a glimpse,
Of the moonlight glint,
On the mirrored oxbow lake,
He lost his grip,
The handle slipped,
He reached out too late.
His song tripped,
His heart skipped,
And he watched the water break,

Under the Stars,
Out in the Bush,
A Woodsman’s axe sunk like a stone.
Over the Bridge,
Beyond the Tasmanian Oak,
A Woodman sat alone…

When the waters broke
A spirit rose,
Shimmering wet,
Half submerged,
A Bunyip,
Creature of the lake,
Holding a shining axe above his head.
The woodman startled, began to shake,
The Bunyip grinned and said:

Hey, there fella!
Is this yours,
It’s made of Gold?
No, the woodman said,
Mine axe was plain.
So, the Bunyip dived again.

Then, hey there fella!
Is this yours,
It’s made of Silver?
No, the woodman said,
Mine axe was poor,
So, the Bunyip dived once more.

Again, hey there fella!
Is this yours,
It’s made of wood and steel
Yes, the woodman cried,
That axe is mine!
What can I give you back in kind?

The Bunyip paused,
Blew on his claws,
And said; no need fella,
I enjoyed your song,
That’s payment enough for me;
Take these axes three!
Sell the gold if you chose,
Give the silver away,
But, please, never stop singing your song.

So… …Under the Stars,
Out in the Bush,
Past the dried up Creek and Billabong
Over the Bridge,
Beyond the Tasmanian Oak,
A Woodman sings his song!