Coloured by the blood.

It stands on its four mighty legs, defiant and alone,
Its dull teak wood hue coloured by the blood,
Shavings and dust shed daily to be swept up by the helper boy.

It holds out against cleave after chop after hack after blow,
Thwarting the mighty master that looms above,
Boisterous and carefree as he deals out his merry mutilation.

Each day it is given a new life, a crisp new coat,
Rubbed raw by the skinny helper boy´s drudge,
And each day it is woken by the persistent thunk of the butcher´s blade.

The butcher´s block stands mighty and silent, coloured by the blood.