Ode To An Arborculturalist

Why that no good little birch I think I alder leaf her My aspens in the dirt Don’t you know I’m not that poplar I damn near choked on a little oak And though I tried I am not maple Now the branches are all broke and the limbs are so unstable I could go against the grain But I’d hate to needle yew So I guess I’ll cedar later And bough out fir the one that’s true Can’t see the forest for the trees Can’t tell just when the root will rot You know I think its elm diseased And I can do with out the knots Well now it’s really got me stumped Just when I should have sawed right through it And it’s too late to pack my trunk Or perhaps I just out grew it I could go against the grain But I’d hate to needle yew So I guess I’ll cedar later And bough out fir the one that’s true Some trees grow up in a grove Others make a stand alone But there ain’t no peach with out a pit And there ain’t no pine with out a cone I’m sure the heart wood ain’t no good So I won’t go out on a limb But when a tree is being felled I wish that someone would cry timber I just don’t think that I’ll ever see A poem lovely as a tree So I won’t Beech and I won’t Pine I’ll just remind you one more time I could go against the grain But I’d hate to needle yew So I guess I’ll cedar later If you were sap then you’d run too