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-daubed 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 Hand's 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 off it.

Fell this forest, make a profit!"



The Farm Hand's 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?"