Oh, poet tree, oh, poet tree,
Oh, could you bloom some words for me?
Petals bright and red and scented?
So flights of fancy might be vented?
Bloom on hillsides thick with muds and grass?
Next to musical streams who wander past?
As it washes away the silt to the ocean,
I will embark to set sail on my romantic notion,
Of lovers in gems that shine like stars,
Whose searching calls are heard afar,
Where daybreak plays a mean guitar,
And broken hearts are mended, mended,
And broken hearts are mended!
SCA 1994