O, Do Not Cut The Old Banyan Tree!
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It has taken a long time in growing,
Sprouting its twigs,
The matted hairs hanging onto the ground
And striking roots into,
Passers-by have sat under,
The birds have nestled on
And they keep playing all through the day
And sometimes quarrelling at eve
So noisy during the sunset,
Darkness growing,
O, woodcutter, what sort of fellow are you,
Just like a scarecrow
Standing with an axe to hit!
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