| Tossin' And Turnin |
|---|
| I think that I shall never see |
| A poem as lovely as a tree |
| A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed |
| Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast |
| O, a tree that looks at God all day |
| And lifts her leafy arms to pray |
| A tree that may in summer wear |
| Yeah, a nest of robins in her hair |
| Upon whose bosom snow has lain |
| Who intimately lives with rain |
| Poems are made by fools like me |
| But only God can make a tree |
