I was wielding my axe
drunk whisky at the bar
every night coming home
out the windshield of my car
I would look through the boughs
and think I saw my lucky star.
I was spreading my sheets
took dinner all alone
every night of the week
awaiting by the phone.
I would dab off my tears
with my favorite pine cone.
Needle prick my spruce root.
Dear little hemlock shoot,
Make me stay sharp,
and keen and evergreen.
I would tend to my bees
sell honey on the road
every fall in the wet
watching lorries take their load
And I