I remember as a very young man
When men earned a living with the axe-
Wages were not as much back then
And much lower was their tax-
I've used an axe myself in work
But not as they did away back then-
From daylight almost through till dark
When they worked with the axe back when-
Timber as hard as timber can be
They cut it down and then into log-
All day they'd keep it up regardless
Working in sunshine,rain and sometimes bog-
The ringing of the axe would echo
Down through the thickest forest tree-
Hard working men they were back then
Mostly in teams of two or maybe three-
Australia it was almost built by them
Or the likes of same-
Cutting timber in the forests deep and high
Never see the likes of them again-
The days when men really earned their pay
Draught horses pulled the logs then out and down-
To where horse drawn lorries took them away
Into the mills just out side of town-
That dead thump of a sinking axe one could hear
As it sunk deep into timber with such power-
Of the sheer muscle and ongoing stamina
Of the axemen that echoed by the hour-
The ringing of the axe back then-
A sound I never could forget-
The music of the working axemen
A sound I respected so and never will regret-
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