Paul Bunyan-Silverstein

Paul Bunyan

He rode through the woods on a big blue ox,

He had fists as hard as choppin' blocks,

Five hundred pounds and nine feet tall . . . that's Paul.

Talk about workin', when he swung his ax

You could hear it ring for a mile and a half.

Then he'd yell "Timber!" and down she'd fall . . . for Paul.

Talk about drinkin', that man's so mean

That he'd never drink nothin' but kerosene,

And a five-gallon can is a little bit small . . . for Paul.

Talk about tough, well he once had a fight

With a thunderstorm on a cold dark night.

I ain't sayin' who won,

But it don't storm at all . . . 'round here . . . thanks to Paul.

He was ninety years old when he said with a sigh,

"I think I'm gonna lay right down and die

'Cause sunshine and sorrow, I've seen it all" . . . says Paul.

So he died . . . and we cried.

It took eighteen men just to bust the ground,

It took twenty-four more just to lower him down.

And we covered him up and we figured that was all . . . for Paul.

But late one night the trees started shakin',

The dogs started howlin' and the earth started quakin',

And out of the ground with a "Hi, ya'll" . . . come Paul!

He shook the dirt from off of his clothes,

He scratched his butt and he wiped his nose.

"Y'know, bein' dead wasn't no fun at all" . . . says Paul.

So he jumps on his ox with a fare-thee-well,

He says, "I'll find out if they's trees in hell."

And he rode away, and that was all . . . we ever seen . . . of Paul.

But the next time you hear a "Timber!" yell

That sound like it's comin' from the pits of hell,

Then a weird and devilish ghostly wail

Like somebody choppin' on the devil's tail,

Then a shout, a call, a crash, a fall--

That ain't no mortal man at all . . . that's Paul!

This poem is one of my favorites by Silverstein. I hope you enjoy it!