In my garden stands a tree,
Its trunk is stout and tall.
Bright with blossoms in the Spring;
While leaves in Autumn fall.
And though it's very old now,
Such memories were made,
As children grew and laughed and cried,
Beneath its pleasant shade.
But now it is a symbol
Of yet another tree,
With branches spreading far and wide
Over land and sea.
When I look through my window
To watch new blossoms grow,
I think of generations
who lived so long ago.
In my heart there is a tree,
Its trunk is stout and tall,
The blossoms are my children
And memories I recall.