TO A TALL SPRUCE
Pride of the forest primeval,
Peer of the glorious pine,
Doomed to an end that is evil,
Fearful the fate that is thine!
Peer of the glorious pine,
Now the landlooker has found you,
Fearful the fate that is thine—
Fate of the spruces around you.
Now the landlooker has found you,
Stripped of your beautiful plume—
Fate of the spruces around you—
Swiftly you’ll draw to your doom.
Stripped of your beautiful plume,
Bzzng! into logs they will whip you.
Swiftly you’ll draw to your doom;
To the pulp mill they will ship you.
Bzzng! into logs they will whip you,
Lumbermen greedy for gold.
To the pulp mill they will ship you.
Hearken, there’s worse to be told!
Lumbermen greedy for gold
Over your ruins will caper.
Hearken, there’s worse to be told:
You will be made into paper!
Over your ruins will caper
Murderous shavers and hooks.
You will be made into paper!
You will be made into books!
Murderous shavers and hooks
Swiftly your pride will diminish.
You will be made into books!
Horrible, horrible finish!