Our culture's like a flower; our people like the earth,
And many's a stranger has come diggin',
Ever since this Island's birth.
And many's a strong heart has been broken,
By promises made but not kept,
And those same strangers came a 'stealin',
As our fathers quietly wept.
It's not for fame nor for fortune,
We've slaved four hundred years.
And it's not for wealth that we've struggled,
And shed our blood and our tears.
But for our fertile soil; our children young and strong.
But just as the seeds they get planted,
The strangers keep coming along.
Oh hear me my proud people, in what seems our darkest hour.
It's not the time for surrender,
But the time for the blooming of the flower.