The royal oak is still standing
As the construction crews draw near.
This Sir Lancelot of the woodland
Now deprived of his sweet Guinevere.
While all around him were slaughtered
He stood in defiant  splendor.
Unable to prevent the carnage
But refusing to yield and surrender.
The town folk fought for conservation
But the fat cats money was to strong.
One tree was all we were asking for
To remain in the place it belonged.
We held a candlelight vigil
And chained ourselves to his trunk.
But the mechanical army was relentless
And cast us aside, like we were junk.
We prayed for a stay of execution
So that this historic landmark could remain.
But they laughed as they cut him to the ground
Treating him with their total disdain.
Now the woodlands is full of houses
With shops and offices a plenty.
And although it is full of bricks and mortar
To me, the landscape is barren and empty.
The destruction of nature for progress
Is a pill just to big to swallow.
To give up all of our yesterdays
Will not guarantee our tomorrow.