Oh Christmas Tree,
Old Christmas Tree
How sad to see you lying.
Out in the road, out in the cold,
Your tree sap slowly drying.
The tinsels gone, the fairy's flown,
The lights are out, you're all alone,
Oh Christmas tree,
Old Christmas tree,
How short our love affair with thee.
A cold grey morn,
Your final Dawn
What fate there now awaits you
A council truck will pick you up
And to a depot take you.
A shredder then will use it's knife,
To bring an end unto your life
Then come next year,
It will be plain,
We all will do the same again.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Christmas Tree by Philip Carter )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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