Woodman, spare that tree
Touch not a single bough
In youth it sheltered me
And I'll protect it now
'Twas my forefather's hand
That placed it near his cot
There, woodsman let it stand
Thy axe shall harm it not.

That old familiar tree
Whose glory and renown
Are spread o'er land and sea
And wouldst thou hew it down?
Woodman, forbear thy stroke
Cut not it's earth-bound ties
Oh spare that aged oak
Now towering to the skies.

When but an idle boy
I sought it's grateful shade
In all their gushing joy
Here, too, my Sister played
My Mother kissed me here
My Father pressed my hand
Forgive this foolish tear
But let that old oak stand.

My heart-strings round thee cling
Close as thy bark, old friend
Here shall the wild bird sing
And still thy branches bend
Old tree, the storm still brave
And, woodsman, leave the spot
While I've a hand to save
Thy axe shall harm it not.
Written and composed by George Pope Morris & Henry Russell - 1837
Performed by Henry Russell (1812-1900)
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