The Valley

The river flows through, fresh and young,
And for the great trees takes care,
With their leaves freshly hung.
The scene is so serene, calmness and serenity everywhere
The valley is home to peace--indeed it is it's lair.

Yet with one stroke of terrible luck
Man's face is brought to view.
He unloads his great big diesel truck
And the peacefulness he begins to skew,
Then every natural color turns a strange, new hue.

He chops down trees and tramples the grass
On the river he builds a dam.
He gives the serenity so much sass
That it retreats, as timid as a lamb.
The river itself begins to cram.

The birds shriek out in great distress
As they witness the dreadful sight.
The bile and tears they try to suppress
With their eyes open wide in fright.
Then they are shot in their frenetic midflight.

That valley no longer possesses peace.
It was all taken by one man.
The serenity bears a massive crease
More unfoldable than a fan.
All because of one man.