The hurricane beat upon its drum
and the thunder clapped its hands
The lightning signalled the end had come
to strike up nature's band
Mourn for the trees that fateful night
as they danced to the tune of death
as they whirled and twirled in their frenzied fright
then fell at the final breath
They that had lived a hundred years
and defied the wind and rain
stood resolute as the storm drew near
then collapsed beneath the strain
The graceful, fragile silver birch
was brutally stripped and gashed
Too weak to resist the rage, it lurched
then down to the ground it crashed
No tinsel will trim the crumpled fir
as it lies there - broken, bare
No presents will hang on him or her -
no Christmas excitement there
