The Woodcutter and His Daughter
Bluebell woods was the place to be on a frosty morn,
but quick enough I was not, as the woodcutter caught me
by the scruff.
Found the rabbits in my pack was told next time,
he would cleave me with his axe.
A while later I came across his daughter, I took her down by the lake
again and again
Nine months past and a bundle of joy,
was how I fixed the woodcutter and his daughter
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
