I BOUGHT an ax of Ezra Wax, who said to me, "Now, sonny, if it's no good at chopping wood, come back and get your money. If I sell junk that turns out punk, the buyer is no loser; I'll make it good, as dealers should—I'm that sort of a snoozer." With that new ax I took some whacks at divers kinds of lumber; the edge was spoiled, and I was roiled, and said things without number. I took the ax to Ezra Wax, and showed him it was pewter, and for an hour, with wrathful power, I roared like baseball rooter. My spiel he heard; without a word, he handed me a new one; an ax so neat, so bright, so sweet, a keen one and a true one! Said Ezra Wax, "You bet your yaks, warthogs and dromedaries, that I make good, as dealers should—my system never varies!" I buy my tacks of Ezra Wax, my wringers and my whistles, my hoes and rakes and oil meal cakes, my seed of grass and thistles. He would not break the pledge he'd make, or tramp a promise under, so I make tracks to Ezra Wax for every kind of plunder. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOONRISE AT SEA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A CRADLE SONG OF THE NIGHT WIND by WILLIS BOYD ALLEN ALMOND BLOSSOM by EDWIN ARNOLD RELEASE by GLADYS NAOMI ARNOLD GRIEF WAS SENT THEE FOR THY GOOD by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY TOM O' BEDLAM'S SONG by FRANCIS BEAUMONT |