There is an old tree,
Whom I know,
It is so old that,
Generations have gone by,
Many places have changed their names,
Yet the tree has remained where it was.
At the base of the tree is a pool of water,
I love that old tree,
It has a dark bark,
Which is as old as my maternal great-great-great-great-grandfather’s hat.
There’s an ant’s colony in and around the tree.
There are litter everywhere.
The branches are broken,
The nests upon it are golden,
And my friends the bee eaters,
Come and sit upon it,
And play with the leaves.
The flowers are orange,
And the tree is so majestic,
That anyone who goes by,
Stops and in awe looks at it. Adios!
Before You Travel. 