So, farewell then silver birch tree

You were planted 40 years ago,

and grew into a giant of a birch,

must have been that land drain

that made you grow so well.

Here comes Mathew

with his top handle saw,

he climbs to cut your limbs

you’ll soon be firewood.

No more will you shade

the garden and cover stuff in green,

blow your seeds into the house

and welcome little birds

But hey,

I’ll make you into a few spoons

and a dough bowl as well,

and you’ll keep us warm in winter (next!).

With apologies to E. J. Thribb (17½)