The first of Buckland,
Who were Gorhendad's folk,
Could not withstand
The great evil oaks.
East of the Brandywine
Was their new home.
But the Sun did not shine
Where fell trees would roam.
Many were taken
By branch and by root
Never to awaken
Nor even give a hoot.
Up went the hedge
Which they called the High Hay
To protect their border's edge
From making them prey.
But the trees did not cease
From coming too near
Nor would they make peace
With their neighbour the deer.
So now it was war,
The Brandybucks declared,
With the forest they did abhor
And no branch would be spared.
Their axes of steel
Met the old trunks of brown,
And with vengeance and zeal
They cut the trees down.
Into a clear open glade
After the battle so dire
The dead trees were laid
To be consumed by bonfire.
