First went the Ash from the smouldering ranks

Scattering her leaves on the brown river bank,

So went she.

Next went the Chestnut, her leaves all tattered

Like a robin in winter when rough storms have battered,

Her robes fell.

Then thirdly the Hawthorn said good-bye

She went with a moan and a tear in her eye,

Strewing the ground. 

Lastly the Sycamore its spotted leaves shed

They were the last to hang their head,

And fall to the ground. 

Sammie Forgrave Age 12

Tullygrawley School

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