Tree-Man

They make their way, the trees, the trees
The twain of them, the trees.
Creeping down the rocky beach
To sanctuary seas.

And 'til the day they make their way
On this rocky beach I stand,
A slender giant, grey and stable.
Looming on the land.

A guardian I am, I am.
A guardian I am.
For Mine'ers wish to have their wood
And spill a sappy lamb

But I'm a patient man, I am.
I am a patient man.

But slowly do the twain trees move--
How tardily their stances yield!
Very long it's been, it's been
Since last my mouth has mealed

But I'm a patient man, I am
I am a patient man.

How many months? The awkward boughs
Of the trees seem stiff and strong,
Moving surely as they are
Toward the sea. The twain a throng.

The boughs are surely thick and strong.
And to the tiny Mine'ers, throngs.

I left to feed but for a day.
Never I should leave the twain!
For on my fill I came to find
The Mine'ers one had slain.

A sappy stump is what remained.

O! The tree who has no eyes
Could shed no tears on her behalf!
But I will shed his share and mine
In morning of my horrid gaffe.

"You will make it to the sea."
I said to him. I did, I did.
And never have I moved an inch
Since those words I said

A guardian I am, I am.
A guardian I am.
A patient man I am, I am.
I am a patient man.