With quivering lips we muttered “there goes our hero”.
Her harp made silent by destined mortal passage
But her song reverberates over the mangrove trees
And on white sandy stretches of countless strands.
The regal crests of this country's mountain heights
Intones in the breeze a requiem of a million bird-songs.
Yellow bells trumpet incessantly a heavy hearted eulogy
For the people's beloved one, for an irreplaceable loss.
But the lady knows no death, her legacy is etched on
Peoples' faces; hopeful and happy, proud and uncowed
Carved on the granite walls of justice made available to all
The spirit of this heroism lives on despite the unkind climes.
But the flame will not be doused by evil men and evil deeds.
For as long as there are the just, the brave and the good
Who will rekindle by a hundred, a thousand...a million fold
The gift bequeathed to the people of these restless islands.
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