Ask the Trees

The creek running rapidly here through the glen
is chuckling with laughter today
The trees are shouting and clapping their hands
rustling rays of warm welcome my way
I'll go over there and sit for a while
and think about you, an innocent child
I read the comments, I rang your bell
I heard about doom and hot iron in hell
Dear sister, your cleavage, a work of art
I've seen it displayed on your page
impressing the simple, the clever, the smart
And the puritans foaming with rage
If I be mistaken , I'll take it to heart
and the trees, I'm sure they'll agree:
It can sometimes be hard to tell things apart
And don't judge if you can't really see