The Old Oak Tree

I am a tree, or just a bit of wood, 

Here I am where I’ve always stood.

For three hundred years in the corner of this field, 

I have seen many a yield.

Life, death and even killed, I have seen.

Hot, cold, young grow old, where I stand in the corner of the field.

Young men come out with a plough and share, 

With scythes they come to gather the crop, 

Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot.

At lunch they sat under this tree, talked to their horse and peed on me.

Those horses then went off to war, 

Often went and were seen no more.

Why do humans want to fight?

They kill each other day and night.

I hear the people talk of fear, 

Often I would shed a tear.

The tractor came with all its power, 

The field was ploughed within the hour.

Fumes come out across the field, 

I’m sure it must have damaged the yield.

Nights and days, weeds and sprays, 

How I long for those old days.

I had some peace long ago, birds flew high above, 

Lovers came and made their love, in the corner of the field.

Now heavy tractors do the work.

Combines cut the corn, big bales stay out til dawn.

It’s enough to make this old tree yawn.

This tree has seen the young grow old, 

Boys were young and then were old.

Later were seen working on the land, 

Now they come to hold my hand.

They talk as if they’ve been here forever, 

but I know those men are not so clever.

Now I see roofs coming near

I stand here now with some fear. 

A man came the other day,

He said that I was in the way.

A road could be coming through this part,

As a factory now he wants to start.

Those humans seem to rush and tear,

While I have only just stood here and stared.

If only they could think of me,

As just an old oak tree.

You may say of this old tree,

You have never moved or seen any life.

But I have seen a lot of strain and stress.

As the sun comes up in the morning

And goes down in the west,

I can remember lots of jest.

The birds sing through the day

The larks through the night.

There is sometimes sorrow

As I wait for another tomorrow.

Flowers blossom in the day,

That’s only if there’s been no spray.

I have seen it all from here, where I stand.

I don’t need a helping hand.

But if I really had a wish that could come true,

Do you know what I would do?

I would say to those men and women who rush about,

Stop and think what it’s all about.

They are all chasing something called money,

It’s very sad, and often funny.

While I eat and drink, life comes to me,

Stop and look through the eyes of a tree.

I shall still be here when they have gone,

Providing the planners don’t have their say,

And if the new houses don’t come this way.

The biggest fear I have for myself

Is the human race will destroy itself....

Laurence Keeley