Thelonious Tree had so long been in slumber
that no one alive could remember the number
of years he'd been snoozing, and it became understood
that Thelonious Tree was asleep now for good.

On the first day of spring dawned a day calm and fair
when a horrible noise pierced the still morning air.
It rattled his roots, yes it shuddered his trunk
and dimly Thelonious heard the cathunk
that rustled his leaves where birds were at nest
till grim and confused, he was roused from his rest.

Ancient Thelonious opened one bleary eye
saw the soil caked with concrete, saw how smog choked the sky,
and worse still he saw that clamorous sound
belonged to a man far below on the ground
with an axe in his hand and the axe went cathunk
each time it was buried in the side of his trunk.
From a slumber so deep it had lasted an age,
Thelonious now woke to a terrible rage.

He shook of the very last traces of sleep
as he pulled out his roots from their place in the deep;
he reached down and with a sickening smack
threw that axeman so far he would never come back.
The man landed far off in the limbs of some trees
where he threw down his axe and he yelped out a "please!
that the trees were alive, why I never did know,
I'm done with my axe now; I'll just help things grow!"

Meanwhile Thelonious found that nothing was green,
there were but stumps in the earth where his friends once had been.
They were now houses and fences and tables and chairs
they were burning in chimneys and polluting the air.
Heavy with grief, he at last understood
that the humans cared nothing for trees; only wood.