A hundred years ago or so, were planted on this land
Majestic pines that reached the sky, so tall, so proud, so grand
Surviving storms and raging fires, as many wars went by
But greedy men with banker friends decreed that they must die

A noble splendid stately home adorned the spacious lot
Keeping watch upon the trees, from centre of the plot
And now and then the snow would fall and dress the branches white
A Christmas scene in mid-July, to all the kids’ delight

The owner wasn’t happy though, with one house on the block
The council rubber stamped the plans, the neighbours were in shock
Twelve more dwellings would be built, two hundred pine trees axed
No consolation profit gained, would be just slightly taxed

The clanging chain saws went to work, the pine trees all cut down
A thousand displaced homeless birds, fled to another town
And where it all was once so green, just rubble now remains
No grateful radiata pines to drink the falling rains

Some will call this progress, though I call it obscene
To raze the land, destroy the trees, deprive the world of green
But I feel blessed that I once was, the king of this great home
And walked amongst the pine trees before they turned to stone

David Jack © 2020

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