Listen to the merry cheering
As their saw bites through the tree,
Listen to the workmen’s jeering
Things ain’t what they used to be.
How the men set to with vigour
As the saw growls through the wood.
As the branches start to wobble
As these chaps do what they should.
Rid the garden of its burden
Trunk, branches, leaves, birds’ nests,
Blotting out the sun from shining
On the clothesline’s pants and vests.
Listen to the men hurrahing
As the lime tree topples down.
As the “Forest” becomes now daily
A bit more like things are in town.