The Big Oak Tree
On the grass in the garden stands the big oak tree,
Standing proud on the ground for the people to see.
Acorns fall from the branches of the big oak tree,
Never waving always ripe in the autumn,
Laden with fruit never none always some.
Wind whistling through the branches of the big oak tree,
As it bows it's head the wind stops to watch,
If the oak is cut down there will be a patch of land,
Big enough for all of a loud brass band.
Squirrels lay in the hollow tree,
Hanging from the boughs is a nest for many bees.
So never cut down our big oak tree,
As it's a home to squirrels and birds and a joy for me.
Standing proud on the ground for the people to see.
Acorns fall from the branches of the big oak tree,
Never waving always ripe in the autumn,
Laden with fruit never none always some.
Wind whistling through the branches of the big oak tree,
As it bows it's head the wind stops to watch,
If the oak is cut down there will be a patch of land,
Big enough for all of a loud brass band.
Squirrels lay in the hollow tree,
Hanging from the boughs is a nest for many bees.
So never cut down our big oak tree,
As it's a home to squirrels and birds and a joy for me.