CAREFUL WITH THAT AXE, ALVEERA

Gotta take a little time to set this one up...

Fifteen plus years ago, me and mine were in Wildie, Kentucky for a reunion of my Dad's people.  Everyone had gathered at Vincent Fish's place- beautiful day, big shelter set up in his front yard, shady, huge spread of good food...

After a couple hours, Vincent's daughter said she'd like to take everyone who wanted to go for a wagon ride over the family property.  She was familiar with some family history, as well as some other local things and would act as our "guide".  A number of us loaded up.   My cousin's husband drove the tractor and we set out.

At one point, we stopped up on a high ridge.  The stone chimney of a long since gone cabin stood lonely.  A hundred feet or so away, right  at the edge of the woods, were the barely noticeable ruins of another small log structure.  My cousin proceeded to share the story of a couple that had once lived in the cabin that Time had all but reclaimed, leavin' only this chimney, like a giant grave marker.

Cut to last summer:  I'm visitin' with an old friend at his folks' new place in Middletown, Kentucky.  My friend asked his mother if she'd fetch a particular guitar he wanted to show me.  As she walked up with the guitar, my friend joked as he reached for it, sayin' to her, "Careful with that axe, Alvira!"

That phrase instantly brought back the memory of the story I had heard years earlier.  

After about a year of messin' around, I wound up with what follows here.  Hope you enjoy it...  Timmy 

CAREFUL WITH THAT AXE, ALVEERA

Among the hills of poplar and pine

Kentucky- nineteen and three

There stood a tiny whitewashed church

As our Lord would have it be

There in that valley, lush and green 

Where runs the Path of Life

Tall and handsome Willie Monroe

Took fair Alveera for his wife

To a cabin small, on a rocky ridge

In a place both lonesome and wild

Willie did bring his precious bride

Where she'd bear him an imperfect child

Willie set out each day before the dawn

To provide his young family a home

He'd work the fields of burley and corn

And leave lovely Alveera alone

Careful with that axe, Alveera

Its trouble you might not know

In Spring, her days were plantin' and chores

With Eelie on her hip

He never spoke, he wouldn't walk

Just bruised her with his grip

Out past the smokehouse, in early Fall

With heart and fingers hurt

Alveera split the Winter's wood

While Eelie squealed and scratched in the dirt

Then Willie took to returnin' late

And set himself a liar

While Alveera lived with Eelie's screams

And stared into the fire

The days grew shorter, the nights grew long

The leaves commenced to fall

Alveera and Eelie would sit alone

And Willie might not come home at all

Careful with that axe, Alveera

Your slight frame might not manage its weight

As Willie rode home, one cold Fall day

In evenin's fadin' light

There on the ground, near Winter's wood

He saw that dreadful sight

Eelie's body, cold and wet

Bespoke a gruesome fate

While his head lay quiet in his mother's arms

As she crouched by the smokehouse gate

What made you do it, Alveera

What made you kill Little Eelie this way

She'd draw a breath, and "Trouble, trouble, trouble"

Was all that Alveera would say

Careful with that axe, Alveera

It may be sharper than you think

Fish~