Alliteration Allowances!
I, analogously, actually appreciate alliteration. I find it an actual aid. So, allowing allegedly allegorical alliteration is appealing. Like – Pursuing potential philosophy possibilities! Like too – making a modern media modicum of modest materialism. Or – The “graduated” grammarian graciously granted that grand-scale graphic graffiti generally grandiloquently graces ‘Grandstand Gothic’! Felt the need for a potentially powerful important impotent protein potion yet? A twofold tantalizing and terrifying trade-off tincture? Taberduker! Then – one can find alliteration in the most unlikely places – such as actually reading in an aviation magazine that the Luftwaffe F-4E 38+10 is painted ‘Phirst Phinal Phantom’ phamily colors! Shades of them there “Phabulous Phantoms Phorever”! Bad, in any color! Then too – I also actually read this one – “Super Tucano’s for Escuadrilha da Fumaco of the Escuadron de Demostracion Acrea (At Pirassununga, Sao Paulo, Brazil)”. Course, language lassitude helps! Who’s the alliteration artificer here anyways? The proverbial DX’er making their 100th contact. Still, like man, I’ve actually ‘ad ‘enuf! You too? Onward towards infinity, and something less tongue-tying twisting, like the old local folklore story of the “Devil’s Axe” …
Devil’s Axe
Every morning with the others
He took his lunchbox off the shelf
Rode with them to the forest
Then – went off by himself,
He worked alone all thru the day
Yet, he was never tired
He never seemed to raise a sweat
– Best man they ever hired –
They could hear familiar sounds
The sharp crack of an axe
It didn’t seem to bother him
Like it did their arms and backs,
Same thing with the “misery whip”
– The two-man crosscut saw –
How’d he run it all alone
So’s it wouldn’t “yee and haw”?
He’d join them at the “boil-hole”
And enjoy a man-size lunch
Again they’d wonder how he did it
Til, they finally got a hunch,
The day the Parson came to camp
Was a day he terribly feared
When God’s man took the ‘Deacon’s Seat’
He always up and disappeared,
And if someone opened up a Bible
Or held their signs and cross
He’d head out to the stables
And – he’d never even pause,
They drew sticks – to scout him out
And, found him sitting on a stump
Calmly smoking his best pipe
While the axe went “Thump da thump!”
It would cut a tree and limb it
Never held by hand of man
Soon’s one tree was finished
The next one was began,
The saw, untouched, would saw it up
In whatever length of log
Now, what the hell was happening
The ‘why’ of “puttin’ on the dog”,
That night he was confronted
And the truth came slowly out
To the devil, he had sold his soul
Of that – there was no doubt,
The “magic” of the axe and saw
It was all the devil’s doin’
They couldn’t hack a man like that
He smelt of rack and ruin,
The “straw boss” listened to their case
Agreed – he was ole satan’s pawn
But before he could be dealt with
All his gear, and him, were gone,
Tho fresh snow fell that evening
His leaving left no tracks
Yet, they say that true believers
Still can hear … the devil’s axe!
D.C. Butterfield
A reg’lar Notty Bumppo piquanterie! The proverbial – this posits that! Shades of do you prefer -30C or +30F? Me, even tho it’s hotter’n the hubtails of hell, I’ll take the heat! So be it …! So, therefore (Always ask what its “there for”), when she asks, “What’s it mean when his smokes comin’ out of his chimney like that?”, and I answer, “It means he’s got a fire on!”, that “severely insinuative reply” therefore means – my favorite sardines in chocolate sauce snack won’t be on the grocery list this week! Taberduker! Captured, caught, corralled, cornered … collected! A little bit of kindling can start a big fire! No pun intended!
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Analogously, I must say what a fine and great and so much needed the new building for the P-A manor seems to be. Yet, I feel obliged to ask why it seems that a far inordinate amount of money seems to be being spent on the roof? Imagine the cost of all them gables, gussets, and endless trusses! Couldn’t/wouldn’t that money have been seemingly better spent on more practical floor space = rooms? Risk/Reward/Ratio? Reminds me of high-priced fancy sneakers … on my ole feet! I could go on-and-on … but I won’t! So again, I’ll say to all you ‘Agents of C.H.I.E.L.D.’ (Column High Inertia Energy Loyal Devotees), out there along Rogue Row … tread carefully!
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Have Pen – Will Write
