When the Oak Man met the Euc Men by Donald F. Blair

The boy’s were whipping it up one night in the Euc Man’s favorite saloon,
Smoking, drinking and playing dice, they’d fight by the light of the moon.
The juke box blared out raucous noise, it was Fifties rock and roll,
when the door burst wide, who stepped inside, but the Euc Man John McRoe.

The music stopped, the dice lay froze, the men, they eyed the door,
His Wesco’s drummed a macho beat as he strode across the floor,
Swaggering up to the bar came he, his money did he lay,
“Rebel Yell, without a glass,” is all they heard him say.

From out of the shadows a voice boomed out, it was calm and clear and cool,
“Who is that brute at the end of the bar, drinking whiskey like a fool?
I can tell by the trucks in the parking lot, there’s Euc men in this bar,
By the beat-up Fords and the four-wheel drives and that brush trailer towed by a car.”

“Belly up to the bar boys, for I’m bound to tell my tale.”
The stranger slapped a bill on the bar. “This C-Note buys the ale.”
The Euc Men rushed like pigs to a trough, to get their share of brew,
McRoe eyed the stranger warily, “an Oak Man through and through.”

“What brings you around to our part of town? For why you buy me drink?”
The Oak Man said, “You guys are clowns, and I think your tree work stinks!
Now just hold off for a moment or two, there’s always time to fight,
I come in peace, I promise you, but I want the trees pruned right!”

The Oak Man’s words were like a bomb that blew the room away.
The Euc Men stood with dropping jaw, they knew not what to say.
The bar keep grabbed his baseball bat, gun and hard hat too,
He knew the score, he knew these guys, he knew what Euc Men do.

The Euc Men smashed some chairs for clubs and drew their wicked knives,
The patrons knocked the front door down in fleeing for their lives.
The Oak Man stood in calm repose, taking in the scene.
McRoe stood glaring over him…he’d never looked so mean.

“Before we fight,” The Oak Man said, “Bar Keep, a Perrier,
I’ve come to talk about tree work and this is what I’ll say;
The days of pickup trucks and spikes are coming to an end,
The Flush Cut’s dead, I promise you…on that you can depend.

Become a pro and join with me and learn what’s going on,
Do it right or not at all, should be your working song.”
McRoe was sold, deep down he knew the Oak Man’s words were right.
“Drop the clubs and stash the knives, tonight there’ll be no fight.

We’ll come with you and learn the ways of Shigo and the rest.
And when we’re through the world will know that Euc Men are the best!
The beat-up Fords and the four-wheel drives and that brush trailer towed
by a car, will stay the same, we will not change and we’ll always fight in bars.
And by the way, I have no choice, I’m sure you understand,
McRoe, the Euc Man decked our boy with a smash from his huge right hand.
Flying off into the night the Oak Man he did go,
And as I leave you with this song, There’s one thing you should know.

Oak is Oak and Euc is Euc and if the twain should meet;
although the work is better now, a Euc Man’s hard to beat.
The Oak Man tries to reason sense…The Euc Man’s more direct.
Make a cut too close these days, it’s a flush cut you’ll regret.