Ode to Our Trees

by Eliza Brooks

To town our mother did go,

And left us here alone;

But we did not mind staying home,

for we found a ham with a bone.

At our home some men did stop

And our trees they proceeded to chop.

The men, they left in a hurry,

And out to our trees we did scurry.

We cried for the trees, and wept on our knees

For the terrible deed that was done.