Tekster: The Whomping Willows. Seasonal Depression.

It?s Christmas again,
And I?m here alone.
Covered with snow.
Chilled to the bone.
My branches are bare.
My roots have gone dry.
My only companions
Are the clouds in the sky.

What was Dumbledore thinking
When he made me?
Without friends,
Without love,
Or family.
Did he think I wouldn?t
Notice Christmas?

Laugh all you want.
Spit in my face.
Chop all my limbs.
Toss them away.
Uproot my body and
Transplant me on Mars.
At least I?d be safe from
Your flying cars.
I know that it?s hard
To get close to me.
But deep down inside,
I?m only a tree.
My actions speak louder
Than the pain in my soul.
If I had my way,
Get it under control.

What was Dumbledore thinking
When he made me?
Without friends,
Without love,
Or family.
Did he think I wouldn?t
Notice Christmas?

So as you sit down
With your families tonight,
Think of these words,
Remember my plight.
If I had a choice,
I?d choose to be free
From this terrible violence
That boils up in me.
But I?m just a slave,
A captive device,
Of an arrogant wizard
With a heart of ice.
If Christmas brings love
And peace in your minds,
Then how could Christmas
Leave this poor tree behind?

What was Dumbledore thinking
When he made me?
Without friends,
Without love,
Or family.
Did he think I wouldn?t
Notice Christmas?