Beneath an old gnarly maple tree
That on the mountainside stands
Sat a lonesome young boy of ten years
Bloody-nosed and cuts on his hands

And he looked down into the valley
At the town sprawled out at his feet
And he cursed all that lived there, saying:
"May the Ocean set these buildings free!"

At this the old tree came to life
And the leaves rustled like in a storm
As she reared her head, raised her voice and called out

The shout echoed throughout the valley
And it rolled down the grassy slopes
The birds all cried in response and took to the skies

And a great tremor then shook the Earth
As the foundations all were undone
And the houses rose out of the ground and started to dance

The lampposts all trembled as the great procession marched through the streets
And the picket fences snuck off to the orchard to play hide and seek
The mill tumbled down doing cartwheels after every step
While the well coughed up all of its water, turning all the grounds wet

And one by one
All the buildings fell in line
And they raised a great shout
Remembered for all time:
"We shall go, we shall go, do not wait for our return!"
"The Great Ocean has called, that its waves may churn!"
"Us to dust!"