Saturday, August 4, 2012

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