A woman named Julia Butterfly Hill
tried to save a sequoia I wanted to kill.
Goddamned tree-huggers are always cramping my style;
I’m such a good person, so why can’t I smile?
So I took out my chain saw with a thirst for revenge,
tossed it into the Hummer, said, “Goodbye, garage.”
I drove from Wyoming to Olympic rain forest,
spewing carbon emissions o’er the land of the free
to bring down great Luna, the thousand-year tree
where Julia lived for two years–and for free!
But I had a mishap when I slipped and I fell
and I lopped off my leg as the saw dropped from hell.
Young Miss Hill was on hand to give me a lift
to the clinic where nurses were ending their shift.
As I lie here in bed wondering where I went wrong,
if you strike up the band, I will sing you a song
of a man who gave all for the country he loved
and developed the world with bombs dropped from above
Yet it’s clear to this hero God’s not on his game;
if He wants my devotion, his approach is real lame.
After gaining new life from a second-hand heart,
I must perish alone here, an abandoned old fart.