© Words and music by Ray Scudero. All rights reserved.
To see them now, you’d never know
The sorry state they’d been.
More brown than green, leaves in boughs
And branches falling in.
One man took time to tend the ground
With love and heart and hand;
Determined in his work he found
To see the orchard stand.
And the rings grow round the heartwood,
The branches touch the sky,
And every spring the blossoms bring
A teardrop to my eye.
Tracing rings around the orchard,
And never knowing why
The sweetest fruit falls early
And the best of men must die.
Silent now the orchard stands,
The harvest come and gone.
The tired hands will rest themselves
Before more work is done.
The workers come and then they go,
The seasons pass on by,
And trees outlive the farmers:
The orchard shall not die.
The Tree of Life will ever grow,
Its leaves warmed by the light
Of love that comes down from the sky
And keeps us from the night.
May our roots strike deep into the ground
As we grow straight and tall,
And may the fruit we bear be harvested
And shared by one and all.
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