The Tree

Tree Tree standing tall,
waiting for the leaves to fall,
on the hill,
near the mill.

Tree tree obsolete and idle,
watching the horse with a bridle.
Is home to many birds and bugs,
and gives the children many hugs.

One day a man comes,
while he walks he hums,
he takes out his saw
and grits his jaw.

A thud is heard on the hill,
the one near the mill.
Now the hill is cold and grey,
Always night and never day.