The First Wheel Poem by John Bliven Morin

“Come see what me made! ”
Cried Hwil-the-Not-Very-Brave,
Sitting there in the shade,
Beside his cliffside cave.
“Come all and see, ” he cried!
A few others began to gather
Around, about, and beside,
To hear his latest blather.
“Me take sapling from bush,
Bent it round and tied it, feel?
Runs like gazelle with little push;
Me think me going call it ‘Hwil.’”

“See? Hwil roll like this, ”
He said, shoving it down the hill,
Where Mighty Morg did p-s,
Knocking him down. “Kill! ”
Morg yelled, “Me kill who make
This thing! Me tear him apart!
This roundy thing me break,
Then tear out maker’s heart! ”
He quickly ripped apart the thing
Hwil made and shook it like a rag,
When suddenly a cry did ring,
“Mastodon! Come! All help drag
It home! ” And all the men
Ran to haul the massive beast
Back to the caves, so then
They all could make a feast.
And as they were dragging
The mastodon, many did say,
While grunting, sweating, sagging,
“There must be better way! ”

Men, in all their sweat and zeal,
For all Hwil’s creative plottin’,
His invention of the “Hwil”
Was already long forgotten.
Except by two of the boys,
Who kept one loop for jokes,
Most treasured of their toys;
Smart chaps, Axel and Spokes.