Little antlered one, little belling one,
melodious little bleater,
sweet I think the lowing you make in the glen.
Home sickness for my little dwelling has come upon my mind,
the calves in the plain, the deer on the moor.
Oak, bushy, leafy, you are high above trees;
Hazel, little branchy one, wisdom of hazel nuts.
Alder, you are not spiteful, lovely is your colour,
you are not prickly where you are in the gap.
Blackthorn, little thorny one, black little sloe bush,
Apple tree, little apple tree, violently everyone shakes you.
Bramble, little humped vine, you do not grant fair terms;
tearing me till you are sated with blood.
Yew, you are conspicuous among tombs;
Rowan, little berried one, sacred is your lovely white blooms.
Holly, little protector, door against storms;
Ash tree weapon in the hand of the warrior, baneful are you.
Birch, smooth, blessed, proud, melodious,
how lovely is each entangled branch at the top of your crest.
Aspen, as it trembles from time to time
I hear its leaves rustle and think it is the foray;
Ivy, you are familiar in the dark woods.
[Author Unknown. 12th Century.]