About such wonders I shall utter
A word or two, If that I may;
Sing a little, lilt a little -
That's my custom, that's my way.
Once a fellow from the village
Harnessed up and took his horse.
In the moonlight, all alone,
Through the woods he steered his course.
Soon he drove into a thicket,
Heaved his axe and set to work,
Feeling trees and chopping branches,
Chipping trunks of bark and cork.
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The air was silent and quite chilly,
Usual for a summer's night;
Birds were sleeping in the forest,
Hushed beneath the pale moonlight.
With such calm and clement weather
There in good and cheerful mood,
See our fellow working bravely
In the darkness of the wood.
Axe in hand, he stopped awhile
To wipe his brow, then jerked his head.
A piercing cry within the forest
Filled him with a sudden dread.
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