The iron shod hoof fell
Pressing me down into the bosom of life
I spread my timid roots,
With growing confidence deeper, deeper
Feeding in the soup of English earth
Drawing strength from my fragile veins
To break from this armoured shell
~
Pushing aside the dried leaves of winter
Out to the shy welcome of an April sun
I took my first breath
Nature blessed my infant summer
Through my fledgling leaves
I drank the cocktail of resin scented rain
Stronger now
Reaching upward for the blue spangled sky
~
The rich on horse, the poor on foot
Sheltered neath my spreading canopy
Wandering tinkers, ragged charlatans
With trinkets, ribbons, charms for true love
Religious relics and cheap tin pots
And in return for board and lodging
Birds with tales of far off lands
~
My brothers felled for duty
Lent their bodies to England’s wooden walls
Braced salt taunt sails of regal clippers
Chased the trade winds down to Rio town
Sweeping the raw and restless oceans
Commerce, war, and thieving plunder
Homeward bound with Spanish gold
~
Long dead lovers promised fealty
In the sanctuary at my feet
Carving hearts with piecing arrows
a naive promise of undying love
And so the weary years ringed my body
Centuries passing in the march of time
~
Now I am marked for death
The red cross fresh on my cankered trunk
Soon the cutting tearing chain saw
Its ripping teeth will end my days
A last acorn loosens, falls
Good fortune my little one
Luck and life be with you,
Grow strong
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Note: 'England’s wooden walls' refers ships of the English navy which were built of oak.