The Axe –man cometh.

Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough!
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
'Twas my forefather's hand
That placed it near his cot:
There, woodman, let it stand,
Thy axe shall harm it not!

Aside

The song above was written in the eighteen thirties but was revamped years later and was spoke/ sung by a chap with a dry, laconic voice which was mesmerising. I hoped to find it on You Tube. Does anyone remember it?

For the last two days our peaceful little lane has been shattered by ear-splitting noise pollution. The first sign of a clear day, and all the lawn mowers and hedge cutters start their monotonous cacophony, which builds up to a horrendous crescendo when the tree trimmers join in. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any louder the machine that devours the branches starts up. I guess part of me is relieved as the tree overlooking our garden looked pretty scary during the gales we have had recently. Not a day for my PCAs I think. See pics below.