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BLUE GRASS BALLADS 25
The trees were girdled, long ago,
Down in that woodland piece, That lay along between the creeks
And joining Closser's lease. 'Tis sad to see that gentle spring
Brings now no foliage there, But leaves the trees in nakedness,
Their long arms thin and bare.
The birds have flown, and far away
In plaintive song they tell Of how, before the sounding ax,
The old trees, groaning fell. The shady nooks of other days,
The sun and glare have found, And men have come with fire and spike
For clearing up the ground.
The trees are logs, the boughs are gone,
In heaps the trunks now lie, And heaving.'mid their drink and song,
Log rollers vaunting vie; Young boys are burning heaps of brush;
The log piles blaze, and bright The fires burn throughout the day
And glare the sky at night.