[the farm hand's ghost:]
"my kin and i had laboured hard
to reap the yearly harvest.
lain weary on our gathered sheaves we
cracked a vat of ale. poured a toast;
began to boast of who could sup the hardest.
slumped in drunken slumber
at the height of wild wassail....
I woke to find my brothers gone
that autumn eve so balmy.
yet gazed in wide-eyed terror
to the barley fields nearby.
struck dumb i swore;
stood before a mighty woad-duabed army.
believed my wits deceived me
'til i heard their battle-cry."
[the lord of the trees:]
"smash the axe and sow the seed;
don't cause the oaken heart to bleed!"
[the farm hands ghost:]
"when he that led this heathen horde
cast-off his ivy mantle;
cohorts raised honed halberds
flying pennants of leaf-green.
from below approached the foe;
a fierce scythe-bearing hantle.
captains sat triumphant
upon coughing, steel machines."
[the forces of progress:]
"break the bough and strip all of it.
fell this forest, make a profit!"
[the farm hands ghost:]
"opposing forces clashed
beneath a red sky cracked by thunder.
entrenched beneath the hedge-row
i'd observed it quite unseen.
one side stood to save the wood:
t'other planned it's plunder,
i chose to fight for nature's right;
grabbed a fallen skean.
All who would one flower destroy,
must first cut down this didycoy!
We fought until the last that day
to gain a hard-won victory,
sucked in by the thirsty earth
i watched my life-blood ebb.
though i died at least
i'd tried to play some part in history;
a momentary trembling
on the threads of wyrd's web."
[the lord of the trees:]
"are there more so brave and honest;
who would die to save my forest?"