Under the blue, blue sky
In a meadow of green
Sat an old oak tree
And he sat and he sighed
And he longed for the sea.
"Surely the wind and
the waves," thought he,
"would bring back some much
needed youth to my leaves."
So he sighed
And he sat
And he longed to escape
The blue, blue sky
And the meadow of green.
Along came the Carpenter
To the meadow of green,
"What a fine piece of oak!
Why, there's enough for a table
and perhaps even a swing."
So, the Carpenter cut down the old tree
And when he had fashioned
The beautiful things,
He set them outside on a
White sandy beach.
"Oh, me! Oh, my!" wept
The old oak tree,
"I've come to the sea
but the sea hates me!
She whips me with sand
and she blasts me with surf--
To think that I wished
to come to this horrible place!"
And he groaned
And he sighed
And he wished for the
Blue, blue sky and the
Meadow of green.
But mostly he wished
To just be a tree.