© 1985, Hobe Kytr. Photo by Jenelle Wiggins.
This is one of Hobe Kytr's masterpieces. Below is the version of the lyrics that he sent me to correct my transcription of the song. Here is the note he included at the bottom of his lyrics:

"Written for the late John Cunnick at the time of his accidental death in 1976. John was a poet, songwriter and millworker who lived at the site of old Camp Keasey in the Oregon Coast Range west the logging town of Vernonia. He is the poet under the apple in the meadow mentioned in the next to last verse. John had but two pair of shoes when I knew him — his high top rubber boots and the wingtips he had on when we buried him.

Lyrics:

It’s them old rubber boots, boys, for the mud and the rain. 
You can take your city slickers and go down in the drain. 
I swear this country living’s goin’ to get the best of me, 
And if my roots grow long enough, just might turn into a tree. 

Oh, the alder, she is pretty, boys, but she grows so old so fast. 
And so like men of little years, she does not come to last; 
And yet she is the mother of the forest that she made, 
When by firs she is outdistanced, that grew up in her shade. 

Oh, they cut down all the old growth, boys, that there was to be got. 
And some it was for profit, but some it was for naught. 
And we who did not see it know it only by its wood — 
And so who saw what did not see, in the sawing say it’s good. 

Pseudotsuga Taxifolia, oh, I love you very well. 
And Thuja Placata! No human tongue can tell. 
And we who love the lumber must better love the tree 
That lives and grows into the sky towards eternity. 

There’s an apple in the meadow, where the lupine it does grow. 
And down there lies a poet buried six feet below. 
And if you should eat and apple, which that Gravenstein supply, 
Won’t you stop and take a rest, boys, and think on one who died. 

My name is nothing extra, so that I will not tell. 
And here’s to all you loggers, oh, I’m sure I wish you well. 
But when you’re in the woods, boys, won’t you stop and look around, 
And thank that tree for its life before you lay it on the ground. 

(Repeat first verse at end.)

Hobe adapted the melody for "Trees" from Ramblin' Jack Elliot's version of "Diamond Joe", which you can hear here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RL-1_LHZxOc

XXX

Aaron Low Range