You were planted 40 years ago,
and grew into a giant of a birch,
must have been that land drain
that made you grow so well.
Here comes Mathew
with his top handle saw,
he climbs to cut your limbs
you’ll soon be firewood.
No more will you shade
the garden and cover stuff in green,
blow your seeds into the house
and welcome little birds
But hey,
I’ll make you into a few spoons
and a dough bowl as well,
and you’ll keep us warm in winter (next!).
With apologies to E. J. Thribb (17½)
Flying Shavings 