The young man lay dying
He talked of his Mary
The beautiful Mary, who kissed him under
Under the truth tree
She said i know my young man
My young man who left me
To go to war
The war that lie over the sea
The Angel of death will search
But will not find you
My beautiful young man
Whom i just kissed under the tree
With my red lips that linger here for you
Mary my sweet Mary, the Mary who kissed me
Under the truth tree
Please wash your lips, my sweet mary
Wash your lips with the dew of the tree
When the wind blow gently through the valley
The valley of home
My voice will carry and rest in the tree
And i will hear you cry for me Mary
My sweet Mary, cry just for me

Written Wednesday October 2005

Allan James Saywell

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/truth-tree/