Maple leans; it's canted, not true,
Old Maple leans; got canker rot, too.
It done started bad skewin' when hurricane went through.

The sky was glow-abatin', bodin' wind ill;
I saw maple lean toward the coop dat's filled:
A crappy shack loaded with cocks that crow--
Hope I outrun the sirocco.
This crappy shack was built in 1905;
It's bumpin' and thumpin',
Winds won't subside.

Maple leans; it's canted, not true,
Old maple leans. Why can't it be yew?!
When wind started, crap blew like them politicians do.

The crappy shack blew right off from its floor;
The mistral whistled through at 204.
It then got cloudy and started to rain--
My beautiful tree looked like it felt pain.
The rainwater blowin' onto that hardwood,
It wasn't doing the root system good.

Maple leans; it's canted, not true,
Old maple leans. The land's soupy stew.
It done started land movin', acute become the skew.

I watched it come down near to the ground.
Too bad it ain't rubber; it might rebound.
Crappy shack ended somewhere in Maine,
Hundreds of miles from my home in Moorhead. [MN]
Happy-lack look on my face: I am illed;
I sawed Maple leaned before my house it filled.

Maple leaned. What else could I do?
Blown Maple leaned. Naught left but to hew.
I done sawed it, hacked, hewed it and planted me a yew.