Woodman spare the tree.
New York, NY :
|Online Access:||Image available online, Middle Tennessee State University: Center for Popular Music|
Table of Contents:
- Woodman, spare that tree, Touch not a single bough, In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot, There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown, Are spread o'er land and sea, Say, wouldst thou hack it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke, Cut not its earth bound ties, Oh! spare that aged oak Now towering to the skies. Oft, when a careless child, Beneath its shade I heard The wood-notes sweet and wild Of many a forest bird. My mother kissed me here, My father pressed my hand: I ask thee, with a tear, Oh! let that old oak stand. My heart-strings round thee cling Close as thy bark, old friend, Here shall the wild-birds sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree the storms still brave, And woodman leave the spot, While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not.