A Tree On The Solomon Islands

After long there is lasting peace,

no curses just me flat in melancholy.

There was no axe no hammer no force

it was all completely voluntary.

I was a tall primaeval palm tree,

on the lovely old Solomon Islands.

I had shade but they needed corn,

so they wanted me neatly gone.

They circled me like hungry sharks,

yelling at me from afternoon to dawn.

I was an abjectly cursed palm tree,

on the lovely old Solomon Islands.

Every cruel word known to their specie

wretched truth or fabricated lie.

Telling me I don’t deserve a place,

before my sap dries, I have to die.

I am a dead rootless palm tree,

on the lovely old Solomon islands.