Cypress Trees in Summer

Cypress Trees in Summer

A NORTHEAST TEXAS BALLAD

It’s hidden there, alone
deep inside the cypress trees,
waiting for the cover of night
his appetite to appease.

Ranger Jack would not believe
the tales he’d always heard.
Not him, too wise is he,
a man so self-assured.

Jack walks the park each night,
the camper’s safety to ensure.
Shoulders square, no fear in him,
his swagger strong and pure.

It’s hidden there, alone
deep inside the cypress trees,
waiting for the cover of night,
his appetite to appease.

The darkness didn’t scare old Jack,
and campers felt secure.
He tipped his hat as he walked by,
careful not to create a stir.

The last point checked at last,
Jack strolled back down the trail.
He didn’t see the yellow eyes,
nor the long and hairy tail.

It’s hidden there, alone
deep inside the cypress trees,
waiting for the cover of night
his appetite to appease.

The noise was quick, a snap,
no time to look around.
Jack tried to grab his holster,
but was wrestled to the ground.

They never saw Ranger Jack again,
his body was never found.
The camp is closed for now,
and only rumors there abound.

It’s hidden there, alone
deep inside the cypress trees,
waiting for the cover of night,
his appetite to appease.