The mill moved in, the town went up
In five and nineteen hundred
They cut down every tree for miles
Lumbermen were then all smiles
As ever in they plundered.
East Texas was a frontier then
And Aldridge on the map
They cut them down and sawed them up
Cashed their checks and only stopped
To clean their saws of sap.
Their party lasted nineteen years.
By nineteen twenty-four
Aldridge was a shadeless plain
No trees, no profit left to gain
They all left, seeking more.
The sawmill now stands there alone
The town completely gone.
Four concrete buildings standing there
Grafitti marred, they’re unaware
The decades have rolled on.
The forest got its just revenge
Its trees now grow inside
That mill, up through its ceiling
And raccoons live there without feeling
Of regret, perhaps with pride.
Nature fixed things in a blinking.
I wonder what Aldridge was thinking.