With L. Frank's Tin Woodman the sagas don't stop.
There are umpteen -Tin Woodmen. Let's start at the top:
The Au GraTin Woodman, as do all his kin,
nine-to-fives it: they're loggers in woodlands wherein
flourish maples and ashes and hickory trees,
all a-blooming with half-wheels and wedges of cheese.
flourish maples and ashes and hickory trees,
all a-blooming with half-wheels and wedges of cheese.
The BulleTin Woodman reveals breaking news
concerning his fringe controversialist views.
(His Vatican counterpart's mode is the bull;
the pair are past masters at pullin' the wool.)
The Woodman who's known as CatocTin fells trees
in the Blue Ridge -- oaks, junipers -- does so with ease.
He'd never log redwoods, not just 'cuz they're old:
he regards 'em World Wonders. "They're not to be sold!"
The DusTin Woodman, like the JusTin Woodman (see below),
loves nothing more than fisticuffs: he lives for "blow-by-blow."
With JusTin, DusTin builds a ring within a forest clearing.
Poor DusTin's cauliflower ears have left him hard of hearing.
The ExeunTin' Woodmen bid the timberlands "Bye-bye!" --
most often when they've only just arrived. (I can't say why.)
They claim they feel they've gotta go and then they've gotta stay.
(They're no far cry from Jimmy "Schnozz" Durante in that way.)
The FerriTin Woodman, like all living things,
carries iron in his blood -- and the health iron brings.
(It goes without saying, of course, that he must
assume fail-safe precautions to guard against rust.)
The GelaTin Woodman's all wiggly 'n' quivv'ry,
all squirmy 'n' twitchy, all shudd'ry 'n' shivv'ry.
In short, this guy's one hyper-jittery fellow --
for all the world not unlike chokeberry Jello.
The Woodman ID'd HighfaluTin...? Ornate!
In place of his tin he sports stainless steel plate.
I'd not dub him pompous, albeit he's bold:
one metalsmith promised to glaze him in gold.
The IvermecTin Woodman is a fan of Donald Drumpf.
He follows Trump's misinformation. End result...? A slumpf
in health and strength; his vital signs head south; he almost dies.
I ask the man, "What part of this do you not get: 'Drumpf lies'...?"
The JusTin Woodman (see above),
as noted, shows unbounded love
for pugilism -- fests de slug.
Our boy has caught the boxing bug.
Near Emerald Forest I've heard there's a tarn
on the shoreline of which sits a sheep-shearing barn
where my kin KnitTin' Woodman hoards gathers of yarn.
Do text him when you've threadbare slippers to darn.
The Liquor Tin Woodman -- no teetot'ler, he --
has a tummy well chamber'd to stockpile his "tea."
His "tea tins" he calls 'em, but we know that booze
be the bev'rage within 'em, a view that's no news.
The MasturbaTin' Woodman, Hansel/Gretel-like, doles out
some something through the woods to help the lad retrace his route.
It clearly isn't breadcrumbs we see scatter'd on the soil.
Perhaps it's clear hydraulic, gear or light transmission oil.
Trong thuốc lá NicoTin Woodman cũng
giúp an thần, tỉnh táo và trầm -- mung mung.
Ở một khía cạnh nào đó, nicotine
cũng giúp điều trị căn bệnh...(Where've ya been...?)
The OvalTin(e) Woodman...
The PecTin Woodman...
The QuenTin Woodman...
The RaspuTin Woodman...
The SaTin Woodman...
The TinTin Woodman...? Gatherer of news
who deals in what?s, when?s, where?s, why?s, how?s 'n' who?s.
He sings the news; he belts it brash 'n' bluesy.
(His "Ten-Ton Tann'd Tin Tune"'s a freakin' doozy.)
The UnguenTin(e) Woodman...
The Vlad'mir PuTin Woodman...
The WesTin Woodman...
The XiTin Woodman...
The YachTin' Woodman...
The ZeaTin Woodman...
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