Johnny’s Place

Johnny Fixerupper was a carpenter by trade,
Building sev’ral bungalows before the second grade.

Father taught him all the tricks, the two made quite a team.
When they built a mansion, Johnny beveled ev'ry beam.

He slept on a sawhorse with a pillow and a drill,
Clinging to his wrenches and his blanket hewn of twill.

Johnny dreamt of two-by-fours and hammers as he'd sleep,
Never once a pasture with a flock of jumping sheep.

Fixing up our houses was just one of many chores.
He'd replace the baseboards and he'd level off the doors.

After graduation, all his friends would move away.
Johnny had a plan in mind, he knew he had to stay.

He had vivid visions of a villa he could build.
If it all went smoothly, all his dreams would be fulfilled.

Checking out construction sites, he asked for extra wood,
Pieces much too small to do a builder any good.

Lugging lumber to the woods, he scattered it about,
Then he drew a blueprint so he wouldn't have a doubt.

Johnny's building grew as sawdust flew into the air,
Ev'ry shim and splinter centered with exquisite care.

Laboring without a rest inside the lonely forest,
Sounds of saws combined with songs of crickets as they chorused.

Johnny crafted sculptures to accentuate the house,
Some as large as elephants, some wee as a mouse.

Ninety-seven statues stood and guarded Johnny's home,
Here, a deer with ample antlers, there, a grumpy gnome.

Finally, completion! Johnny set his saw aside,
Stepping back to check his work and swelling up with pride.

There's one thing that set this domicile apart from yours.
There was not a single lock installed in any doors.

Johnny left it open. It was lodging for the lost,
Shelter for the helpless ones succumbing to the frost.

If you stray the path, if you have left the trail behind you,
Go to Johnny's place to rest, and somebody will find you.