A tall white Birch reared its stately form,
High in the path of the oncoming storm...

I came to this city filled with self pity,
For my friends were all far away...

I add a little bit of nonsense,
That has been finely ground...

A little breath of scandal,
And a pair of eager ears...

Hidden deep in the woodlands,
Near where a river flows...

A little more give,
A little less take...

Dear sir/madam, I write to you today,
To express concerns in my own way...

Beware! Beware! The red ballet shoes!
A cursed gift you should always refuse...

This is no holy war nor jihad,
No fight for what's deemed right...

Someone special,
That's who you are...

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest,
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum...

You clarion not friendships broken,
To you ill-will is never spoken...