Chopping Block Chips

Back in my childhood wood was used

To fuel the kitchen stove

About two hundred turn a year

Had to be junked and clove

Each time the axe would cleave a junk

Some flakes of wood would fall

Some chips, almost the size of splits

Some others were quite small

Especially in the summer months

On those hot sultry days

You wouldn’t need much fire in

Because you’d melt away

Then out around the chopping block

Mother would make a trip

To gather up an apron full

Of all those dried-up chips

An apron-full would be enough

To make a small, quick fire

To boil the kettle for some tea

That’s all that was required

Such times a little chaw and glutch

A simple bite to eat

Was washed down with some strong, black tea

You got with little heat

So mother’s apron-full of chips

Would make the kettle sing

She picked them ‘round the chopping block

A simple easy thing