There was a tree, growing on the green
with a fine house beneath, so white and so clean
in which lived a man, who spoke tenderly
and I put on my best clothes when he came a'knocking.
Well, I gave him my heart, and he gave me his name
and we wed 'neath the branches on a bright summer's day
we lived in that house; we laughed every day;
we were so happy, I was afraid.
And then the war came, and took you away
You wrote me letters,
and I waited and prayed.
I prayed you'd come back to me
but when you came--
their car backed into the tree,
and it knocked off all the leaves
a whole month too early.
Now you cry in your sleep that there is no shade
that the branches are falling, there is blood in the rain
You open your eyes, so wide, so ashamed,
and I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say
When I look out the window, out across the green
On dark nights our faces (are) mirrored right back at me
all pale-white and pointed, frightened, frightening
two tired old shadows beneath a dead tree.