Lonesome Pine


Oh lonesome pine, oh lonesome pine,
so tall, so old, nestled in the dale.
Standing so proud in the tall grass field.
Oh lonesome pine what tales to bare,
if only you could speak.
Of life and sorrow, happiness and grief,
all from under your peaceful boughs.
Oh lonesome pine, oh lonesome pine,
the stories you could tell,
about D.H. + D.M. or maybe D.C. + M.E.,
and why is C.W. marked over with B.B..
Oh lonesome pine, oh lonesome pine,
if you could but only speak!
That scar on your large lower branch,
is that where the vigilantes tied their rope?
Oh lonesome pine, oh lonesome pine,
what stories you could tell,
of picnics and parties, campsites
and secret midnight rendezvous!
Oh lonesome pine, oh lonesome pine,
why do I feel the way I do?
Could it be that I too know
what it's like to stand alone.
Oh lonesome pine, oh lonesome pine,
how can I feel this way for a tree?
Is it because I see a lot of you in me?

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