I’ve always wanted to write an old sounding folk song about a willow tree, like the song “Bury Me Beneath the Willow.” When I called my brother for his birthday last year (April 6), we were sitting in front of our computers. We both went to Google Maps and looked around our old neighborhood in upstate New York. So much had changed. Still there, at the end of the street, was the giant willow tree where we’d wait for the school bus. The memories came flooding back and I finished the song that night.
The finest tree I’ve ever seen
Stands long and lanky in shades of green
Branches sweeping toward the ground
With leaves like teardrops falling down
Swaying gently in the breeze
With my favorite memories
Willow tree, willow tree
Under the weeping willow tree
Willow tree, willow tree
Under the weeping willow tree
One day walking with Liza Jane
When all of a sudden it started to rain
The only dry place we could see
Was under the weeping willow tree
We sat close and laughed for hours
Caught up in those summer showers
From that day, we’ve been the best of friends
Come what may, we’ll be together ‘til forever ends
