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TROLIUS TROLL

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Below is the poem entitled TROLIUS TROLL which was written by poet William Robinson. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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TROLIUS TROLL

Remember the story 
of Billy Goats Gruff?
The troll under the bridge,
and all of that stuff?
If you liked that old story
it's all good and well,
but it isn't at all 
the troll tale I will tell.

Now, Trolius Troll 
was a timorous soul;
A more timid troll
you never shall see.
He lived in a hole 
in the base of the bole,
(that is, the trunk) 
of a turpentine tree.  
                                    
Young Trolius Troll, 
I ask you to note,
is a strict vegetarian; 
he does not eat goat.
You might not believe me,
but, begging your pardon,
he eats only produce
from his vegetable garden.

One day, after harvesting 
some of his crop,
with a basket of turnips,
with some carrots on top, 
he strode up the path, 
just as proud as could be,
toward his home in the trunk 
of the turpentine tree.
                                    
Then, outside the door
of his pine tree abode,
was a sight that made
Trolius Troll drop his load.
There, with a chainsaw 
and a double-bit ax,
stood a brawny, black bearded, 
blue eyed lumberjack.
                                    
With his feet wide apart 
on the green, grassy ground,
the lumberjack looked 
the troll's tree up and down--
Then, laying the ax 
on a moist, mossy bank,
he gave the saw's start rope 
a sudden, sharp yank.

With a white puff of smoke 
and an ear splitting sound,
the saw shattered the silence 
for acres around.
The lumberjack stepped 
to the tree's sturdy base
with a smile of delight 
on his black-bearded face.
                                      
Then, the usually timorous
troll gave a shout,
and, pounding his chest,
he went leaping about.
With a wild snarl of rage 
and a blood chilling wail,
the once timid Trolius 
charged up the trail.
                                    
The brave lumberjack 
was stricken with awe.
He turned from the tree, 
and dropped the chain saw.
Through the ferns and the bushes 
the tree feller ran.
and he never returned 
to the forest again.
                                  
And so ends a story,
that some might find droll,
of a timid and timorous
tree dwelling troll.                             
But its message is clear,
it’s as clear as can be:  
You may monkey about with Trolius, friend,  
but you’d better not mess with his tree.

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