Not long ago behind the town square
\nThere was a lovely beech tree
\nWhose bark bore deeply engraved
\nLetters and numbers
\nFor all the men of the village
\nHad a long-standing tradition
\nTo mark their names in the tree
\nBefore leaving for the army.<\/p>\n
When it came the turn of Benjamin
\nThe widow’s eldest son
\nHe, too, engraved
\nOn the tree his natal name
\nAlmost as soon as he had left
\nThe war was unleashed
\nAnd never again did
\nBenjamin return to his Brittany.<\/p>\n
At dusk the grieving mother
\nWould go to reminisce
\nBeside the tree engraved
\nWith her son Benjamin’s name
\nBut then came a day for woodcutters
\nWith tools on their shoulders
\nThey set down at the back of the square
\nTo cut down the big beech tree.<\/p>\n
The old tree was screaming
\nUnder the teeth of the long saw
\nHer sap flowed out
\nHer long life was ended
\nWhen the mother heard the cracking
\nShe ran out of her house
\nAnd showed the woodcutters
\nHer son Benjamin’s name.<\/p>\n
The woodcutters were kindly folk
\nCarefully and heedfully
\nWith their saw they cut
\nThat whole piece of wood
\nRespectfully carried the plaque
\nTo the poor mother’s house
\nAnd set it as a base
\nUnder Benjamin’s portrait.<\/p>\n
June 1967.<\/p>\n