Down in' the ground, one day in spring
A tiny acorn lay:
The morning sun seemed coaxing it,
Toward the light of day.
The moisture of its native soil,
The sun so warm and bright,
Were then the most essential things,
To aid it toward the light.
The life within that acorn.
Seemed growing day by day:
At last it burst the tiny shell,
And then it seemed to say,
"Give me a chance, I'll try to be
Of use to human-kind.
I'll grow, and grow into a tree,
As useful as you'll find."
So downward went a little root,
And upward toward the sky,
There started then and there, a shoot.
Its chance 'twas bound to try.
'Twas only just a little while,
Before the shoot appeared.
With sun and rain 'twould surely grow,
The drouth, it never feared.
Year after year that acorn grew,
Into a tree, so grand,
Until today we term the oak,
The strongest of our land.