Alone I stand in the trough of a hill,
Limbs all battered, green fingers they'e ill
Deep marks on my body from battles of old
I long to give shelter to those, from the cold

My brothers have fallen, lost to an age
Men with sharp axes to gather a wage
Shaped into buildings and even the wheel
A land lost now lost to concrete and steel

The green places have gone, all lost to time,
No ch...

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