Sunrise paints the workshop gold, another day begins
Scent of sawdust, stories old, where new creation spins
Hands that know the grain and knot, the silent, sturdy truth
Every plank a whispered thought, a memory of youth
From rough-hewn timber, strong and deep, to lines that softly gleam
Secrets that the forests keep, woven in a dream
Furniture, my work, my passion and my pride
Each curve, each joint, a steady mark, where honest efforts hide
From kitchen table, warm and wide, to dresser, tall and grand
A piece of soul, a current tide, built by my own hand
The whisper of the sanding pad, a rhythmic, gentle hum
Taking all the rough and bad, till smooth perfection's come
Chisel dances, quick and keen, a precise and artful stroke
Unveiling beauty, rarely seen, from beneath the oaken cloak
Dovetails snug, a perfect fit, no glue can hold so true
Every piece a little bit, of what I strive to do
Furniture, my work, my passion and my pride
Each curve, each joint, a steady mark, where honest efforts hide
From kitchen table, warm and wide, to dresser, tall and grand
A piece of soul, a current tide, built by my own hand
Some folks chase the fleeting trend, the sparkle and the flash
But I build things that will transcend, beyond the fleeting cash
A rocking chair, a family's rest, a desk where dreams take flight
Putting every skill to test, to make the future bright
Furniture, my work, my passion and my pride
Each curve, each joint, a steady mark, where honest efforts hide
From kitchen table, warm and wide, to dresser, tall and grand
A piece of soul, a current tide, built by my own hand
When evening falls, and shadows creep, the tools are put away
A quiet sense of slumber deep, until the coming day
Another life, another home, a legacy I send
With every piece, where thoughts can roam, my work will never end.
My work will never end.
