On a bench, in Joe's little shed,
lying not too far apart,
were his ax and his switchblade,
having a quiet heart-to-heart.
"How small and weak you look,"
said the ax to the blade.
"You will never be able to do
those deeds for which I'm made."
"For it's me that Joe will use
You should see me at work sometime,
how I split a log with ease."
"A great help you are around
performing these hefty tasks,
but stuff I do for Joe, you can't,"
replied the blade to the ax.
"Would he ever count on you
to cut or strip a wire bare?
Try slicing open packages too.
I'd love to see just how you'd fare."
"We're designed in unique ways;
you're not superior as you claim."
needed by Joe all the same.
In the end, they both agreed
about their weaknesses and strengths.
Neither of them, they could see,
was truly a hundred percent.
From then on, they became pals3
got along and learned to relax.
Never again was there pride or strife4
between the blade and the ax.