This tree I knew once
Way back when in black and white
Uprooted
And started walking
I said by jove sir
how remarkable
but it had not yet learned
that humans listen
It thronged right by me
Made a beeline for the village
Leaving behind
A trail of roots
Which I gathered
Best I could
As I tried to keep pace
With the 34 year old oak
Mrs Barnellbrack
who took great pride in all her lawns
was quite discoloured
when the walking tree
now trottling along at quite some speed
spilt a headful of twigs
all asunder
I apologised most hastily
I had begun to wonder
Where we might end up
Quite wonder why I would write this down
Should the walking tree just never stop
But when everything became a graveyard
It took root by a bench
Which the whole world oughtta know
Was planted by me
