I think that I shall never prune/
A tree that I don’t finally ruin/
I snip a bud, or twig, just right/
The whole darn tree gets chestnut blight/
When I attempt a limb to saw/
I leave a wound that’s always raw/
I use the shears with tender care/
But still my trees are starkly bare/
The timber I have maimed would fill/
The most gigantic lumber mill/
I fear that ev’ry bush and tree/
Has put a contract out on me!
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