Bunyan Rests

Splitting to stumps woods west,
Swinging arms
Tempered steely by firs,
Our champion meets the sea
And sits.

He issues a belch
That would shatter
Windows were he still a boy,
But comes now as a wheeze
Demanding a drink, a girl
Some anything to scale at least.

The Wobblies say he was striking;
“Our first member,” so goes the story.
Others, that next,
He cleaved us a great river,
“For to dam,
For to help us stand taller.”

But Bunyan looks once at Columbia
And spits, much too far, missing
A shot anybody’s
Brother would make
And Bunyan sobs like the sky’s pissing.