The Dying Banksia tree.
The garden be a sad old place
The tree is slowly dying
My lovely ancient Banksia tree
Why look at it, it’s crying!
We built our house around this tree
It was a blessing from the wild
Now, too much water’s taken toll
And cramped the poor tree’s style
The parrots, they come to this tree
Galah’s, Corellas, too
Came here to eat it’s candle fruits
They’d come the whole day through
But now my lady slowly dies
These birds no longer call
I loved my grand old Banksia tree
At times life can be cruel.
I’m going to cut it’s branches off
And let it stand in death
Then grow some climbers up it’s form
So up it’s trunk they’ll spread.
Yes, morning Glory, scented jasmine
Will clamber up this old dead tree
And make it look brand new.