Blunt Axe
There was an executioner called Beck,
Who was paid to cut off heads by the neck,
But was exceedingly lax,
About sharpening his axe
And of his victims made a terrible wreck.
He gave his instrument a mighty swing,
But, though it was a frightening thing,
It just seemed to drop,
It didn’t actually chop,
And simply delivered a slight sting.
The prisoner with his head on the block,
Whose knees had already started to knock,
Said: “For God’s sake, you dick,
Get on and make it more quick,
Much longer and I’ll expire here of shock!”
This caused Beck to issue forth a great grunt,
And for the whet-stone started to hunt,
For it’s no use just tutting,
When you’re meant to be cutting,
And you can’t chop with an axe when it’s blunt.
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