The Ankerwycke Yew*

Why do you come and sit near me?
And why do you stand in my shade?
Why do you gaze at my ancient limbs?
To learn how your history was made?

You know Magna Carta was sealed here,
and Henry and Anne held their tryst,
but I won’t repeat what took place here,
nor acknowledge a pledge or a kiss.

I’ll never divulge what was said here
when King John and his barons met.
Nor tell if King Henry won Anne here,
though you wait for five centuries yet.

I am the Ankerwycke Yew tree,
boughed down by the secrets I’ve heard,
and though you may stand till sea turns to dry land,
those secrets will never be shared.
Those secrets will never be shared.