Henry Fothergill Chorley

"A song to the oak, the brave old oak, Who hath ruled in the greenwood long!"

"Now gold hath sway; we all obey And a ruthless king is he; But he never shall send our ancient friend To be tost on the stormy sea."

"Then here’s to the oak, the brave old oak, Who stands in his pride alone! And still flourish he, a hale green tree, When a hundred years are gone!"