A sapling of the Bronze age
Slowly reached the sky
As it grew older it became hollow
And you might ask why
They might share their inner secrets
With the sensitive who sees
The wonder that is evident
The great passion of trees
Rotting from the heartwood
But may take on growith and be
Somewhat like a grotto solidified we see
Where tiny faeries cometh from
And dance when berries fall
Dropped branches can form new roots too
And so answer the call
Yew beams in some old houses
Have sprouted it has been shown
The mystical the magical
For its life force it has
thrown
Out of its sacred slumber
Into an ancient dream
Sit a while inside the YEW
And my friends it all will seem
That you can reach back through time
And relive and admire
The memory of the ancients
And the fever of their fire
You can be part of all of that
That great age sees you through
The resonance and recurrence
And what appeals to you