The forest has days marked for tree collections.
It knows the time woodcutters come to call.
Then it warns the trees marked-out for inspection,
And it shows them how to faint before the fall.
And mummy trees speak of children's pleasure,
When they see the decorations on the morn,
On the one saved in, cold, mid-winter weather,
That celebrates a new babe that was born.
And on the eve of felling the trees gather.
To hear the tales passed down from days-of-yore.
And they laugh and chat, and party all together.
They are happy to be filled with season's lore.
And when the trees fall-over in the forest.
Their buddies cheer them on and wish them well,
And when men drive them down-the-road to market
New trees are planted from the seeds that fell.