The heart of the forest runs cold some days,
when death and destruction tread its ways.
The roar of the dozer, the scream of the saw;
the ravenous beast that always wants more
and it’s only the folk who are of the trees
can return the forest to a state of ease.
So try as they may to bring an end about,
they’ll never win if the Greenies stay stout.
True to the forest till the end of days;
true to the paths that are Gaia’s clear ways.
Doin’ Stuff stuff