Woorden: Skyclad. The Disenchanted Forest.

[The Farm Hand's Ghost:]
"My kin and I had laboured hard
to reap the yearly harvest.
Lain weary on our gathered sheaves we
cracked a vat of ale. Poured a toast;
Began to boast of who could sup the hardest.
Slumped in drunken slumber
at the height of wild wassail....

I woke to find my brothers gone
that Autumn eve so balmy.
Yet gazed in wide-eyed terror
to the barley fields nearby.
Struck dumb I swore;
Stood before a mighty woad-duabed army.
Believed my wits deceived me
'til I heard their battle-cry."

[The Lord Of The Trees:]
"Smash the axe and sow the seed;
Don't cause the Oaken Heart to bleed!"

[The Farm Hands Ghost:]
"When he that led this heathen horde
cast-off his ivy mantle;
Cohorts raised honed halberds
flying pennants of leaf-green.
From below approached the foe;
A fierce scythe-bearing hantle.
Captains sat triumphant
upon coughing, steel machines."

[The Forces Of Progress:]
"Break the bough and strip all of it.

Fell this forest, make a profit!"

[The Farm Hands Ghost:]
"Opposing forces clashed
beneath a red sky cracked by thunder.
Entrenched beneath the hedge-row
I'd observed it quite unseen.
One side stood to save the wood:
T'other planned it's plunder,
I chose to fight for Nature's right;
Grabbed a fallen skean.

All who would one flower destroy,
must first cut down this Didycoy!

We fought until the last that day
to gain a hard-won victory,
Sucked in by the thirsty earth
I watched my life-blood ebb.
Though I died at least
I'd tried to play some part in history;
A momentary trembling
on the threads of Wyrd's web."

[The Lord Of The Trees:]
"Are there more so brave and honest;
Who would die to save my forest?"