What if I kindly offered to wait, oh, couple hundred years for you
If I sat here on my pallet in the shade.
I’d weather all the snow and things, boiling July the rainy springs
While all the while my love refused to fade.
Pigeons would come and roost on me. Be buried neath the autumn leaves.
But damp and cold won’t change my mind at all.
And when you finally walk on by, a twinkle will spark in my eye
I’ll tell you all the odd things that I saw.
A man who wrote with fountain pens, ran with a lass intent on sin,
To sprawl beneath the branches, laugh and tease.
Young girl with her mother there, folded a flag with loving care
And left a box from far across the sea.
Before me some made tender love and others raged, bright flashes from
The warring that they seldom understood.
My roots have been fed with the blood of patriots and scorn’ed love
And tears from fathers wishing that they could.
Two hundred years I’ve watched from here, the goings and the coming near
The mighty towers and the fallen dreams.
These mortal men who walk so proud, lifting voices feeble, loud,
I’m weary of their rumblings now it seems.
I’ll go now with you to forests deep, to places far, still wild and steep
And fill my breast with breaths that aren’t so cold.
Hold you in my aged arms, taste the nectar of your charms
And feel the rapture, comfort of your soul
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