Burnt hurt dumb thumb! A comical revolutionary poem

I burnt my thumb!
I feel so dumb!
But I also have to say
I singed my wrist yesterday!

The logs we cut
do not fit
in the firebox!
(that’s the size of it!)

A 16 inch cut
will, of course,
let me put wood straight in
without using force!

But these logs were sawed
by some hand unseen
after they were felled
to measure 18!
fireplacefirenarrow
So wrestle, push, pry,
twist, poke, force,
balance and jam must I,
and then, of course,

Sometimes my finger, hand, arm,
or wrist, will slip up and touch
that hot iron box!
“Does it hurt?” “Yeah, pretty much!”

But gas heat is expensive
and the wood, it is free!
Though I’m apprehensive,
we burn the felled trees!

And I have to suffer
and force more wood in;
there is no safety buffer!
I’ll probably burn me again!

Singe my wrist, arm, hand, thumb,
finger, and again feel warm, and dumb!

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