Oak Tree

Thunder in the ground
Feel it in my roots
The land it shakes to
The beating of hoofs

By shaft am I hit
By blade am I hewn
Mingled with others
Blood of mine is strewn

Yet tall do I stand
And despite the strokes
You cannot bring down
So mighty an oak

Thunder in the fields
Here the sorry mass
Lies by smoke covered
Slain upon the grass

Beautiful plumage
By bullet taken
Roughest of armour
By cannon broken

Yet strong do I stand
Despite agony
You will not bring down
So mighty a tree

Thunder in heaven
Skies to red are turned
By fell winds shaken
Cloud above is burned

By stroke of madness
Into yourselves sown
Upon my short hill
I am overthrown

No more do I stand
For through your folly
You have defeated
A simple oak tree