There used to be old trees here
Not a wood really just a stand
That straggled and spread across
This then undrained pasture land
That used to partially flood
Nearly every single year
And I would stand with my gun
I suppose just about here
And shoot wild stoggies
And sometimes with luck
The odd rabbit
Or maybe a duck
But not any more
For now it's a street
Trees and land are covered
By both tarmac and concrete
I know the population's grown
And people need their spaces
But do they almost always need
To use those most beautiful places
