A battle-axe, tells this story,
A battle-axe, worn and grim
It hangs on the wall, old and hoary,
Next the photo of Uncle Jim.

Pray silence! That cat on the fender,
Pray silence! that armchair that creaks,
Pray silence! each creature and gender,
Pray silence!... The Battle-Axe speaks.

''Tis centuries now' the Axe started
'Since the workshop I left, new and gay
But my usefulness now has departed
And my glories have faded away.

But I once was a power in the land, sirs
And feared by all foes was my name
And I flashed in my bold master's hand, sirs
Like a terrible weapon of flame.

He kept me all polished and bright, sirs
Until like the sun's rays I shone
And ne'er was I vanquished in fight, sirs
Until... but I'll tell you anon.