LAMENT FOR IRISH OAKS
JULY 2012

Erin lies barren of oaks

Ghosts of the druids are weeping

Oaks of Eire are globally strewn

At the bottom of all the oceans where English warships sailed

Sunk by pirates of the Spanish Main

By cannon balls of French frigates

And corsairs off Morocco

And Yankees at Fort McHenry

Storms at the Horn stopped some doing 'transportation'

Short of their mission to Van Demman's land

Some of her oaks remain in Alba

Lining barrels of Scotch whiskey

Some in England as girders

Of Wren's great buildings

Rowans and Hollies now thrive in the sun

No longer in understory of the great oaks

Hills of Ireland, now meadows of green

Grazing sheep where red deer once ran.

Generations await the great oaks return