Document 36

The Hawthorn Tree - A true story

Author(s): George Hynd

Copyright holder(s): George Hynd

When ah came here first in '63
In the field jist ower the back frae me
Grew a wonderful thing
A wee Hawthorn tree

It wisnae very big, aboot twelve inches high
Wi wee tiny branches reachin' up fur the sky
Fightin' fur growin' space in a big tangled mass
O a' sorts o rubbish, an long chokin' grass

One wee tree all alone in a big muckle field
An frae the winter winds there wis nothin' tae shield
it, as it stood all alone a' covered in snaw
Patiently waitin' fur springtime's thaw

But that wee tree survived
Ye can mark by words
An on its thin branches
Sometimes there sat birds

Whae jist sat there an whistled
An preened their wee feathers
That tree wis their perch
In a' sorts o weathers

Ah watched each year as it grew bit by bit
An it reached the great height o nearly six fit
A bonny sight in the summer a' covered in bloom
Lovely white blossom an frangrant perfume

Then one day progress came rollin' along
An the roarin' o engines drowned out the bird song
And that wis the end o that bonnie wee tree
As it wis ripped oot the earth by a big J.C.B.

Information about Document 36

The Hawthorn Tree - A true story