Stealing wood from the government forest,
Feeling like a timber florist.
In the middle of nowhere with no one to see
I won’t be caught when I work like a bee.
Hey Mr. Oak, meet Mr. Chainsaw.
He’s a nice guy with only one flaw.
He’ll cut you up into pieces by the foot
Later: meet Mr. Oven, turn into soot.
Stealing wood from government land,
So I won’t freeze my toe or hand
When I sit one the sofa in March,
Under my roof, an oaken arch.