The Disenchanted Forest - Skyclad

«My kin and I had laboured hard to reap the yearly harvest.

Lain weary on our gathered sheaves we cracked a vat of ale.

Poured a toast;

Began to boast of who could sup the hardest.

Slumped in drunken slumber at the height of wild wassail…

I woke to find my brothers gone that Autumn eve so balmy.

Yet gazed in wide-eyed terror to the barley fields nearby.

Struck dumb I swore;

Stood before a mighty woad-daubed army.

Believed my wits deceived me 'til I heard their battle-cry.»

The Lord of The Trees:

«Smash the axe and sow the seed;

Don’t cause the Oaken Heart to bleed!»

The Farm Hand’s Ghost:

«When he that led this heathen horde cast-off his ivy mantle;

Cohorts raised honed halberds flying pennants of leaf-green.

From below approached the foe;

A fierce scythe-bearing hantle.

Captains sat triumphant upon coughing, steel machines.»

The Forces of Progress:

«Break the bough and strip all off it.

Fell this forest, make a profit!»

The Farm Hand’s Ghost:

«Opposing forces clashed beneath a red sky cracked by thunder.

Entrenched beneath the hedge-row I’d observed it quite unseen.

One side stood to save the wood: T’other planned it’s plunder,

I chose to fight for Nature’s right;

Grabbed a fallen skean.

All who would one flower destroy, must first cut down this Didycoy!

We fought until the last that day to gain a hard-won victory,

Sucked in by the thirsty earth — I watched my life-blood ebb.

Though I died at least I’d tried to play some part in history;

A momentary trembling on the threads of Wyrd’s web.»

The Lord of The Trees:

«Are there more so brave and honest;

Who would die to save my forest?»