O Tannenbaum!
Strolling back through Petersham with our tree upon my head;
Soon to be so bright-bedecked in gold and green and red.
The passers-by smiling at me, my head all bobbing bough,
And when I reach my garden gate, the green has stained my brow.
The net is snipped, a branch is clipped, the tree in water stood;
A sawn-off chunk of sappy trunk, such sweetly smelling wood;
And there in early gathering dark, it drinks and takes its shape.
Few days to wait to meet its fate in baubles, bells and crepe.
And when at last it's dragged inside and on its table stood
We'll decorate and water it and and light it up and down,
We'll care for it, adorn it from its base up to its crown
But that won't be enough to stem the dying of the wood.
The sacrifice is worthy made, forever has been fêted:
The year ends in glorious Yule and to the new is mated
Or can portend that simpler tree which with Christ's blood was sated.
Choose what you choose, none can lose: it must be celebrated!
Here in the north, it's dark and cold before it's even late
Who needs much cause or ancient lore or even a fixed date?
Beginnings and ends are a time for friends and gathering in the warm:
Eat up and sup and have a slice! Come, shelter from the storm!
