![](\"http:\/\/www.writingsinrhyme.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/07\/Axe-300x155.jpg\")
\nThe woodcutter with sharpened saw
\nWent to the woods one day
\nAnd he liked the timber that others scorned
\nHe ignored what they did say
\nThat the timber was damp and burned slowly
\nAnd gave away little heat
\nJust sapped the energy of the woodcutter
\nTo cut for firewood was a fools feat.<\/p>\n
But he cut the timber from the wood
\nAnd it burned brightly
\nAnd cracked and hissed as all wood does
\nFor all wood it is damp slightly
\nThe weather was fine\u00a0 – there’s time to dry
\nBefore in the fire it burned
\nAnd he loved by that fire to sit
\nStoke the embers that then to life returned.<\/p>\n
And everyone one else had their fire as well
\nAnd from the chimneys belched smoke
\nBut few by his fire they came to sit
\nSaying on its fumes one would choke.
\nAnd sometimes the fire it made him cough
\nMoretimes it made him smile
\nBut he loved his fire, for all of its faults
\nAnd he’d sit and sleep by it awhile.<\/p>\n
But then the winter set in, was hard
\nAnd the bitter wind was cold
\nAnd the timber was hard to chop now
\nFor it was knotted and old.
\nAnd the thundering rain made it really damp
\nAnd it gave more smoke than heat
\nAnd the woodcutter by the fire shuddered
\nWith cold hands and colder feet.<\/p>\n
And in time the timber he did not burn
\nDesired from another wood instead
\nThought as the others did that it was no good
\nWas damp, smokeful, and dead.
\nAnd decided as the other villagers did
\nTimber from another wood to cut
\nBut he always desired the smell of the old timber
\nWhen lighting a fire in his little hut.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The woodcutter with sharpened saw Went to the woods one day And he liked the timber that others scorned He ignored what they did say That the timber was damp and burned slowly And gave away little heat Just sapped the energy of the woodcutter To cut for firewood was …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1405,64,446],"tags":[1474,1473,1475,1472],"class_list":["post-1303","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-god-in-other-people-inspirational-poetry","category-inspirational-poetry","category-moral","tag-parable","tag-provers","tag-roma-activists","tag-woodcutter","column","twocol"],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7EI4f-l1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":392,"url":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/libraries-burned\/","url_meta":{"origin":1303,"position":0},"title":"Libraries Burned","author":"Tom\u00e1s \u00d3 C\u00e1rthaigh","date":"22nd May 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Devoured by flame, hopes and dreams,Not destroyed, no, but delayedAs if an old man died, the library burnedPhoenixlike it will be madeIn time rise from the ashes thereWhere brittle burned paper blows in the breezeSmokes smell hangs putrid in the airWhere the air is blocked by treesThat wont allow the\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Life"","block_context":{"text":"Life","link":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/category\/life\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.writingsinrhyme.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/Old-Man-Dies.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":2181,"url":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/dark-brown-turf\/","url_meta":{"origin":1303,"position":1},"title":"Dark Brown Turf","author":"Tom\u00e1s \u00d3 C\u00e1rthaigh","date":"11th August 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"In solidarity with the turf cutters. The latest of the poems restored to the website, this one was written a few years back. By hand it was cut, the dark brown turf Donkey and ass dew it by cart home Hands hard from work tossed it to the fire Neath\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Environment"","block_context":{"text":"Environment","link":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/category\/environment\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"Dark Brown Turf","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.writingsinrhyme.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/07\/Dark-Brown-Turf-300x73.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.writingsinrhyme.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/07\/Dark-Brown-Turf-300x73.jpg?resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.writingsinrhyme.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/07\/Dark-Brown-Turf-300x73.jpg?resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":1411,"url":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/let-blaze-the-flames-of-uisneach\/","url_meta":{"origin":1303,"position":2},"title":"Let Blaze the Flames of Uisneach","author":"Tom\u00e1s \u00d3 C\u00e1rthaigh","date":"30th April 2013","format":false,"excerpt":"Flames bright burned seven years On the top of Uisneach Hill Bealtaine declared for the world The call it echo's here still Though flames burned to embers Ash now its fuel that flamed strong Wisps of is smoke like spirits Linger here, where they belong. Miracle of fire celebrated Of\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Irish Heritage"","block_context":{"text":"Irish Heritage","link":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/category\/ireland\/irish-heritage\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":4683,"url":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/ruins-of-ballymacool\/","url_meta":{"origin":1303,"position":3},"title":"Ruins of Ballymacool","author":"Tom\u00e1s \u00d3 C\u00e1rthaigh","date":"8th May 2020","format":false,"excerpt":"Those ruins stand, charred by fire Not set by a rebels hand Though many of it's type out to the flame By tenants ire Anger pent, venting planned No, that was not to blame. Mammon, and what it inspires: Is said to be how this home was burned! Once imposing,\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Ireland"","block_context":{"text":"Ireland","link":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/category\/ireland\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"Ballymacool House, home of the Boyd Family","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/writingsinrhyme.celtichosting.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/BALLYMAC2.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/writingsinrhyme.celtichosting.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/BALLYMAC2.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/writingsinrhyme.celtichosting.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/BALLYMAC2.jpg?resize=525%2C300&ssl=1 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/writingsinrhyme.celtichosting.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/05\/BALLYMAC2.jpg?resize=700%2C400&ssl=1 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":1645,"url":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/summits-reached-before-depths\/","url_meta":{"origin":1303,"position":4},"title":"Summits Reached Before Depths","author":"Tom\u00e1s \u00d3 C\u00e1rthaigh","date":"19th April 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"I climbed Cairn Hills summit step by step On a day when all was well The depths to which I was about to sink Fate had in store I could not tell The sun shone bright: a summers day How could I foresee That fire and fate so would conspire\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Walking Verses"","block_context":{"text":"Walking Verses","link":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/category\/travel\/walking-verses\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":3940,"url":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/after-touring-st-mels-cathederal\/","url_meta":{"origin":1303,"position":5},"title":"After Touring St. Mels Cathederal","author":"Tom\u00e1s \u00d3 C\u00e1rthaigh","date":"12th September 2017","format":false,"excerpt":"Where the fire burned... its smell intimately familiar One statue survived, mere damage and dust of smoke Pictured on the walls: the ruins, it looks now that there was never any I listened, as the bishop of it spoke Of the sculpture of the Stations and the Church Mice Of\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Ireland"","block_context":{"text":"Ireland","link":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/category\/ireland\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"Windows in Saint Mels Cathederal in Longford","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.writingsinrhyme.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/09\/Windows-in-Saint-Mels-Cathederal-in-Longford-165x300.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1303","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1303"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1303\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1305,"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1303\/revisions\/1305"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1303"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1303"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writingsinrhyme.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1303"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}