The Deep Greenwood

A ballad I wrote to the tune of a Celtic song.

The trees stand ancient sentinel
Over all things fair and good,
Guarding in their quiet shade
The deep greenwood,
Wind above and earth below,
Leaves of fire, glistening snow.

I know a glade where springtime dwells
Beneath a clear blue sky.
Whispered in the leaves there is
A song of days gone by.

There I met my love beneath an old oak tree.
We pledged each other that true we would be.
The branches sighed approval—
“We find this to be good.”
They pledged that they would guard us
In all the deep greenwood.

Alas, for she has passed away, like a rustle in the grass.
I sat and grieved beneath the old oak tree.
But then her sweet voice came back to comfort me
Saying, “Oh my lad, don’t grieve for me.
I walk the sky in peace now, and you can
Find me in the whisper of the wind.
I will always walk beside you,
Come near with you like kin.

If ever you should find that glade
And sit under my oak tree,
Listen to the leaves there
And the whispers in the wind.