Whispering in their dreams to the Te Arawa,

Reminding them of their ancestors,

With the mighty beast showing their ora,

They run from the mountains to the shores,

And reaching into the heights,

Blocking out almost all of the light.

Seeing many kings come and go,

Ageing slowly over the years,

But only the Māori know,

Redwoods and kauri are the true pioneers,

The creators with their luscious green locks,

Letting birds nest on their shoulders,

When the sun comes up the birds go off like alarm clocks,

As time goes on the trees don't get any older.

The forest floor is always moving like a wildfire,

And the kea going 'TAP TAP TAP' as he breaks a nut,

With the trees placed in random order,

Smoke chiseling its way through the canopy from a little hut,

While our bodies and mind slowly decay,

This ancient forest will always stay.