Hail ! hail ! thou grand old sycamore !
Thou dear old favourite tree!
The village would thy fate deplore,
If harm should happen thee.
I`m pleased to see thee looking well ;
Thou blooms as fresh as ever;
Old age o`er thee has thrown no spell ;
Thou still defies rough weather.
We`re proud of thee for art thou not
Our dear domestic tree ?
Our woods some bigger trees have got,
But none we prize like thee.
Great shelter of the sons of toil !
Thy honest friend am i,
we both are natives of the soil,
and that`s the reason why.
A favour now i ask of thee,
Which here so long has been :
Will thou now,please,relate to me
What thou has heard and seen ?
Come now, just try to find a voice,
and put thyself in form,
For hitherto thou`st made no noise
but whistle in a storm.
There came reply -” i know thee George;
I knew thy parents too,
Thy` dad had once a blacksmith`s forge,
Where horses he did shoe.”
” Beneath my shade,when thou was young
I saw thee oft at play
With thy playmates,hale and strong,
Till supper called away.”
” And when to manhood thou was grown,
And took thy lovely bride,
No sweeter girl i e`er have known.
she was my owner`s pride.”
” When i four times my leaves had shed,
And days were dull and drear,
There came the news that she was dead,
And then thou brought her here.”
Stop,stop,old tree !Oh ! speak it not,
Why harrow up my woe?
Thou touches a most tender spot,
Thou soon would rub it raw.
She was the jewel of my heart-
The gift of God most high,
But soon alas ! we had to part,
I now begin to sigh.
With saints in bliss she has a place,
Still,I can see her here,
Her form and features i can trace
In all my children dear.
My children dear ! Each precious gem
A gift of God to me,
To him I dedicated them
in there sweet infancy.
Now please, proceed, old Sycamore !
and talk of other things.
Unfold thy folio of yore
to which the cobweb clings.
When first within a hawthorn fence
A sapling straight I grew`
I was of little consequence,
and noticed by few.”
As years rolled by,my health being good,
I grew both stout and tall,
The fence was stubb`d—alone I stood,
And then was built this wall.”
“Since then I`ve been the rendezvous
Of Mosbro`village folk,
Be heavens black`or be they blue,
Here men do stand and talk.”
I`ve seen the children on the green
All gaily romp and play;
And there great grandsons I have seen
With tottering feet,and grey.”
“The bull of grand majestic mien
With horns and sinews strong—-
I`ve seen him led upon the green
Amid the maddening throng.”
There, tethered fast unto a post,
The noble victim stood
Surrounded by a mighty host,
Who longed to see his blood.”
“What shouts of glee have here been borne
From those hard-hearted men ,
Whene`er their dogs the beast has torn,
Or he has wounded them !”
By knowing fools I`ve heard it stated
As their own firm belief-
That when a bull had well been baited
His flesh was better beef.”
“On summer nights th`unlettered crowd
Have sought my pleasant shade
To hear the news sheet read aloud,
And their comments have made.”
“They read of bloody Bonaparte-
The fighting cock of France-How he had made great nations`smart
And for his pleasure`dance.”
Typed by Katherine Murphy
