In the days of old, when the spring with gold
Was lighting his branches grey
Through the grass at his feet, crept maidens sweet
To gather the dew of May
And all that day to the rebeck gay
They frolick'd with some love swains
They are gone, they are dead
In the churchyard laid
But the tree he still remains.
He saw the rare times
When the Christmas chimes were a merry sound to hear
And the squires wide hall, and the cottage small
Were full of good English cheer
Now gold hath the sway we all obey
And a ruthless kind is he
But he never shall send our ancient friend
To be toss'd on the stormy sea.
Loder, Edward James, "A Song of the Oak The Brave Old Oak" (1840). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 515.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.