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The Council tree man said to us:

   ‘This tree, it must come down.’

I sadly thought of what he said

    And wore a gloomy frown.

 

Our tree had rotted deep inside

     Away from human sight.

It might fall on our roof one day.

    The tree man was quite right.

 

Another tree we’ve planted since

     Will also grow quite tall.

I hope that many years will pass

     Before it, too, will fall.

 

My story isn’t finished yet.

      I think you’d like to know

That where the first tree used to live

      Some little toadstools grow.

 

The place is now a magic place

     Where fairies come to play.

They dance beneath the stars at night,

     Then disappear next day.

 

When any tree is sadly felled,

       Poor Mother Nature cries,

But a tree, like every living thing,

       Gets old and, one day, dies. 

 

Then tiny fairies dance and sing,

     And to music gently sway.

This heals the earth that’s lost its friend

      And takes its hurt away.    

 

Now I want this secret to be safe,

     Known just by you and me,

And I’m sure that you’ll remember this

     When you see a fallen tree.

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