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The End of Wood Cutting

by William Francis Barnard

Red leaf and yellow leaf
Are flaunting through the air;
The paths are rustling underfoot,
The sun is everywhere.
Bright creepers clasp the rugged wood
Of many a hardy tree;
The squirrel stores his winter nuts
And chatters in his glee.
The ripened year is done at last;
The fuel is at home.
One song for joyous seasons past
And happy days to come,
My friends,
And happy days to come!

Come build a fire upon the ground,
And let the wine flow free;
Make smooth a place where we may sit
And raise our revelry.
The sun will hasten to the west,
But we have naught to care:
With meat and drink we need no more,
Save that the night be fair.
Beach wood and chestnut wood;
Make a cheerful blaze.
Forget the bad and praise the good.
Here's joy and many days,
My friends,
Here's joy and many days!