The wind whips me, yet I don't fall.
The rain rolls down my back.
Thousands of my twins stand tall.
Together we stand and will not crack.

Two of us can make some shade.
Twelve of us can bring you more.
Thousands die for paper to be made.
Thousands more to build a store.

Trees we are, were, and will be,
 Tangled with leaves and vines.
Trees stand together, as I see.
There's no family like the Pines.

Tree families like ours will die.
The Oaks and Elms and Cypress, too.
The globe is warming-I tell no lie.
Time is ticking as we become few.