Story of the Lone Cypress

Here I stand alone, 

they call me Cypress, Lone,

Granite hillside off pebble beach, every lens I reach;

Surviving after scarred by fire, 

held with cable for 50 years, 

On the edge I stand here,

for over 250 years;

Seen and photographed by many,

I keep growing happy,

Between pacific grove and pebble beach,

out to the sea I reach;

Only if there were plenty, 

Here alone we grow and not many,

See you again till next time,

Here I stand till end of time.

Cheers!

Hammett